


Cosmic Dust

by Clamat_Submissa



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Lance (Voltron), Angst and Feels, Balmeran Hunk, Eventual Smut, Galra Keith (Voltron), Intergalactic War, M/M, Mulan AU, Olkari Pidge, Slow Burn, more tags to be added later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-11-12 14:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11164218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clamat_Submissa/pseuds/Clamat_Submissa
Summary: It suddenly dawns on him that everyone enlisted for deep, meaningful reasons. Hunk seeks to right a wrong done to someone he loves. Pidge craves the spilled blood of their brother's murderers. Lance wants to make his family proud, and become someone he can be proud of. All of them have a purpose bigger than life itself.And Keith? Keith's searching for a way to justify his very being, something to prove that his existence isn't a mistake.-Basically, a very loose adaptation of Mulan.





	1. Sense of Duty

**Author's Note:**

> Heeeey everyone ♥
> 
> This is my first Voltron and first Klance fic, so I'm both extremely nervous and excited! This is my own spin on Mulan so it doesn't exactly follow the movie. This is unbeta'd and English is not my first language, so this will probably be edited later on. Feel free to point out any mistakes you see as you read, I'd be really thankful ♥
> 
> According to my outline, this should be ten chapters long, around 30-60k! I'll try my best to update every week (between Saturday and Sunday). 
> 
> Anyway, I poured my heart and soul in this, so hopefully y'all like it! Leave a comment below letting me know what you think :D

_There were only two soldiers assigned to guard the wall that night. The red star had hidden from the sky a few vargas ago, the Altean sky a deep violet diffused within shades of indigo and cerulean. The night was tranquil, no noise except the whispers of the wind ringing past their ears, which wasn’t unusual. The intergalactic war had yet to reach the community residing within the insides of planet Altea; it had mostly taken place in the outskirts of the kingdom, outside of the large walls protecting the civilians inside. Usually, despite the overall tranquility in the area, there would be five to six soldiers taking shifts on the walls, but King Alfor requested more soldiers to the frontlines than usual for that day’s expedition so they were understaffed._

_One of two soldiers guarding the wall was half-asleep inside the fort the farthest to the right while the other was walking back and forth, trying his best to remain awake and alert, when a surge of dark magic broke into the atmosphere. The surge took form of something akin a spear before it crashed against the compact middle of the wall, and the floor beneath the soldiers’ feet quaked roughly. The soldier inside the fort arose quickly, her gaze moving around wildly as she searched for the source of the impact, while the other grabbed onto the wall’s ridges to support himself._

_“What’s going on?” The soldier inside asked as she placed her hand on the floor, trying to resonate with the Balmeran construct beneath her._

_“Don’t know,” He replied, his robotic voice increasing in volume as he started panicking. “I think something’s – “_

_He was interrupted by a rough clink sound to his right. The quaking hadn’t ceased so he couldn’t let go of the ridges, yet he tilted his head towards the noise and found a grappling hook. Gulping, he glanced over the wall’s ridges only to be startled by hundreds, thousands of grappling hooks flying mid-air and falling inside the wall, hooking unto the ridges themselves. That was all the information he needed._

_“We’re under attack!” He yelled at his fellow soldier, waddling towards her. “Send the signal!”_

_She started screaming from the intense pain the rock construct was feeling, resonating deeply within her through the connection, from the incessant hits happening below – bolts, she imagined, made from a mix between dark magic and pure quintessence. Nonetheless, she did her best to transmit the signal so that it reached someone, anyone from inside. She didn’t have enough time, however, before she felt the intruders break down the crystalline gates and rush inside. She could no longer sense another friendly presence in the area, so she assumed they had taken – eliminated – the other soldier._

_The soldier ran as fast as she could to the top of the fort, taking two to three steps at a time while trying her best to communicate with the rocky walls surrounding her, urging it to release stalagmites and stalactites; maybe then she could stop the intruders from reaching the top, or at least slow them down enough so that she can send the signal without having to deal with them. After what felt like a hundred doboshes, she reached the top, where one of the communication crystals was. The crystal was huge – crystalline blue, triple her size, and sparkling like a star. It sprouted from the center of the area, powerful and radiating quintessence. Although she could send quick messages through the land and rocks to anyone nearby, by simply touching the crystal with the warning in mind she’d be able to alert every general and commander within the wall’s premises._

_It was right there, in front of her eyes, a few feet away from where she was standing. She could feel the energy from it coursing through her entire body, asking, pleading to relay the message, and she was almost there. Right next to it. By just extending her arm, she might be able to –_

_A huge, impeding figure startled her with their presence, ground booming and trembling beneath their sudden weight. The intruder had jumped from the corner; apparently, they had been standing on the ledge for some time, waiting. Waiting for the rest of their troops, for the shifting of the atmosphere, for her? She didn’t have time to ponder about it, she couldn’t waste this opportunity. The intruder was right in front of her, seemingly unarmed, patiently looking at her._

_With the intruder’s eyes on her, she completely reached over and touched the crystal, sending her warning throughout all Balmeran structures in the area. Even as she did so, they were unmoving. With a surge of bravery, arrogance maybe, she said the words that might ensure her death. “Now all of Altea knows you’re here.”_

_Only then did the intruder move from his place, rounding up to her while reaching towards their left side. The light from the crystal shone bright, allowing her to follow their movements despite not being able to see their face still. They grabbed a shifting weapon – long, elegant, a hybrid of an axe and a blaster that oozed dark magic – and pointed it directly at her._

_One more step forward, and the light shone directly on the intruder’s face. The soldier’s eyes widened in recognition and now, knowing she had no chance of winning this battle, rid herself of possibly fighting back and instead prayed to the Balmera for safety. With a smirk grazing his lips, the intruder murmured, “Perfect,” his words barely audible over the clashing, disturbing sound of the blaster going off. The crystal beamed with an iridescent light, shining through the dark sky like a ray of pure sunlight, stretching out towards all of the corners of the atmosphere and the ground._

**_The Galra have arrived_ ** **.**

-

“It all started on November 12, 1966. The place was Clendenin, West Virginia. Five men were in the cemetery, digging up a grave – “

“Why were they digging up a grave in the first place?”

“Will you let me finish?!” Keith throws a small ball of steamed rice in Shiro’s direction, which the older man gracefully avoids. “I am trying to _inform_ you.”

Shiro chuckles softly, flipping the pork strips on the grill. “Inform me of a cryptid – “

“I prefer the term _legendary creature_ , but go on.”

“That might or might not exist – “

Keith lets out an undignified scoff at that. “It definitely does exist, though, there’s no doubt about it.”

“Back on Earth, a planet that doesn’t even exist anymore?”

There is a soft silence between them at that statement. It’s been years since they lost Earth, decafeebs even, but it’s still something all remaining humans mourn. There’s still a few million that survived the fall and now live in planet Altea, though most of them lost a relative, a friend, a lover. It’s even more sensitive, however, because half a decafeeb ago Altea tried to reclaim planet Earth, giving all remaining humans hope to go back home, but failed. As such, it’s a topic most people try to avoid, including Keith and Shiro, _especially_ Shiro, but they’ve been trying to force themselves to accept and normalize it as a general fact as much as possible. It’s part of Shiro’s therapy.

“Look,” Keith says, stuffing a rice ball into his mouth. “It is still important to know all about Mothman. Who knows, maybe he’s among the people who survived.”

“How could something or someone as _visibly different from humans_ just casually walk with them and not be revealed?” Shiro turns off the grill and places each pork strip onto the place carefully, along with the cups of seasoning. It’s not exactly samgyeopsal, but close to it. He carries it to the table, struggling to balance it all on one hand, and places it between the two of them.

Keith licks his lips and nods his head towards Shiro, leaning over to pick up one of the strips just as Shiro hits his hand with the fork. With a glare, Shiro clears his throat and joins his hands. Keith grunt joins his hands as well. “Itadakimasu.”

“Itadakimasu,” Shiro replies with a smile and lets him get the strip. Keith snorts as he dips it into the seasoning and continues talking, bits of unchewed food visible as he speaks. “And I’m not saying he’s just casually walking around, looking like Mothman. Maybe he’s like, I don’t know, half-human or something.”

“Are you suggesting Mothman is half cryptid – “

“ _Legendary creature_.”

“– and half human? What person would want to fool around with a cryptid?” Keith opens his mouth to reply but Shiro chastises him immediately, telling him to not speak with his mouth full.

Keith’s visibly annoyed, yet he complies with a larger than life gulp before continuing. “Shiro, we’re in planet Altea with a bunch of hybrids, would it really be that much of a stretch?”

“I get where you’re coming from, but a _cryptid_? I mean, come on.”

“ _Legendary creature_ ,” Keith corrects him for the third time that day. It’s an ongoing battle between them, though it’s fairly obvious Shiro continues to say cryptid just to annoy Keith. Keith still hasn’t caught on that. “And you and I both know that there was at least one human out there that decided to mate with something as equally disgusting, possibly more disturbing, than a legendary creature.”

There’s another soft silence between them, Shiro biting his lip in worry while Keith scowls at his food. It’s not an all-encompassing silence, the sounds of the utensils clattering against the bowl making it impossible for the silence to consume them, but there’s something there. This is another subject they’ve been trying to force themselves to accept and normalize as casually as possible. It’s part of Keith’s therapy.

“Had there been more sightings of Mothman besides that Virginia one?” Shiro asks, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Of course there were!” Keith’s scowl deepens but for another reason entirely. “Do you think the title _legendary creature_ goes to just _any creature_? Of course not. It’s like with serial killers – three or more murders to be labelled a serial killer, three or more sightings to be labelled a legendary creature.”

“Oh?” Shiro leans over to scoop some rice out of Keith’s bowl. “And how many sightings does Mothman have?”

At that Keith scratches the back of his neck. “Ah, well, that kind of depends what you read. On the official accounts I’ve read, though, almost all count three official sightings.”

“Oh, so he’s barely a _legendary creature_ ,” Shiro mocks him and receives a knife pointed at his face.

“Don’t think just because you’re my brother that I won’t carve you out,” The threat holds no heat, and Keith’s chuckling through it. “And, yes, there might only be three official sightings but _listen to how detailed and awesome the sightings are_! Second sighting, three days after that first one…”

Shiro stacks all of the dirty dishes on top of one another and picks it up, moving them to the sink. Keith continues his Mothman rant while he washes the dishes, animatedly stopping and swinging the plates back and forth whenever he gets into a very interesting part. Shiro just watches him from the corner, smiling broadly, not paying attention to what he’s saying.

“Forty-six people, Shiro! That bridge did not collapse out of nowhere, and there were Mothman sightings at the bridge collapse. If forty-six dead people aren’t proof enough of his viciousness –“

Shiro’s clock starts beeping annoyingly halfway through his speech. Keith scoffs at that but shuts up nonetheless, especially since Shiro all but runs to his room as soon as he hears the beeps. He finishes washing and drying the dishes and places them on the side properly, drying his hands with a battered rag afterwards.

“Why did the clock beep?” He asks him loudly as he moves to the living room, his feet marching almost instinctively to the small bookshelf against the lower right corner of the leftmost wall. It’s a quaint living room, barely fifteen feet from one side to another, but it’s cozy enough for just the two of them. They could have chosen to live anywhere they wanted with Shiro’s payout, but they both decided it’d be best if they took up a shack in the middle of an almost deserted population. Less people that could possibly recognize Shiro, less people in general.

“I’m, uh, meeting someone.”

Keith’s eyes jump from title to title until he finds the last book he was reading – _The Mothman Prophecies_ by John A. Keel – and slides it out of the shelf slowly, careful to not let the rest fall on top of one another. “Who are you meeting?”

“A friend,” is Shiro’s immediately reply.

“What friend, you have no friends.”

He can _feel_ Shiro’s glare through the thin walls. “I resent that. I have plenty friends.”

Keith snorts. “Oh yeah? Like who?”

“Like the friend I’m meeting up with today.”

Keith’s fingers are scrolling through the pages, his glance jumping around as he tries to figure out where he left off. He forgot to place a paper or something on the page to identify it, so now he’s kind of lost. “And who’s this friend?”

“Just a person I know. Olkari, great fellow.”

At that Keith looks up briefly, slightly expecting Shiro to be there but knowing him, he’s probably still searching for his shoe. If he had to bet, it’d be on the left shoe. “Since when do you hang out with Olkari folk? They’re too cool for you. How did you even meet this _friend_?”

There’s a slight, hesitant pause. Short, but extended enough to make Keith curse under his breath as he figures out the answer before Shiro even replies. “Through, uh. Through Matt.”

Matt Holt. They don’t talk or discuss Matt Holt. It’s probably the first time Keith’s heard his name in years. He’s been very cautious and careful throughout the years, trying his best to not say or do anything that might prompt Shiro into even _thinking_ of him. Until today, he had been successful. “Oh,” he says simply. Shiro’s in the living room now. “I’m – “

“Don’t worry about it,” Shiro roughly dismisses, clearing his throat. “I’m, uh, going to be out for a few vargas. Might come back before the red star sets, hopefully. They’re going to try and make me a prosthetic for my arm.”

At that Keith drops his book. “ _What_? And you didn’t think to mention this? This is important stuff!”

“It all happened this morning, I was getting the rice when – “

“This morning! We were eating together just now, you could have told me over eating but _no_ , you just let me ramble on about Mothman instead of telling me this huge news.”

Shiro tilts his head, abashed, and scratches the back of his neck. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, nothing’s for certain.”

Keith simply nods, noticing Shiro’s slight discomfort. “You sure you want to go alone? I could always accompany you, I’m literally not doing anything.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Shiro dismisses, walking towards the door.

“You sure?”

Shiro nods. “I really appreciate you wanting to come, but it’s a _me_ thing, you know? Something I have to do by myself, for myself.”

Keith smiles at him, then, and sends him off. “Alright, then, go! Have fun, don’t get lost. I’ll be here the entire time.”

“Alright,” Shiro laughs and opens the door. “Bye, Keith”

“Bye,” Keith yells back, the sound muffled slightly by the door closing. He sighs and lays down on the floor, next to the Mothman book he dropped. “What do I do now, huh?”

He muses to himself for one or two doboshes. He could clean their shack, he guesses, but that requires a lot of physical effort and his body’s still slightly sore from training with Shiro the night before. He could go to the town, get some yarn, and start knitting. He doesn’t know how to knit, but he’s sure he could pick it up sooner or later. After all, he has a few hours to kill. Or, and this seems to be the most appealing option out of all, he could stay here and continue his reading. End the day being as unproductive as always.

So, he ends up doing just that, immersing himself in the reading. It’s a good read, it’s maybe the fourth time he’s reread this exact book, but there are still certain things that he doesn’t fully understand. Sometimes he decides that it’s possible that he doesn’t understand it because he isn’t _meant_ to understand it, other times he looks at the board in his room – tall and wooden, with an old United States map plastered to it with numerous red and yellow tacks pinned to it in relation to Sharpie markings – and feels _so close_ to figuring something out that he can’t fathom _not_ understanding the book eventually.

The vargas pass by fleetingly, the red star itching closer and closer to the ground. Keith’s lost his sense of Earthen time long ago, but his biological clock is telling him that it’s probably been around five or so hours since Shiro left. He doesn’t mind as much, not really – if Shiro’s in any kind of trouble, he can just contact him through the intercom – but something feels… off. He can’t quite pinpoint what it is, exactly, but there’s this pressure on his chest and a sinking feeling in his stomach. Something’s definitely off.

It’s not long before he hears it. A Balmeran cry. It’s continuous, loud, and ringing. It pierces through the tranquil atmosphere like a blazing shotgun, and it makes Keith immediately rise to his feet and run out the door. He’s thankful of his long sleeping robe, protecting him from the harsh shill of the evening as he jogs towards the center of the city. There’s little light from the sky to guide him towards the fountain, the place where everyone gathers for festivals, holidays, and proclamations. He’s only able to find his way through the loud chattering of the civilians.

When he reaches the area, he hears worried murmurs from some of the residents and the gleeful cries of babies. In the middle, standing on top of the fountain, is a tall, ginger, bearded man. He looks to be in his mid-forties, wearing a blue suit that makes him recognizable to everyone – he comes from the Royal Castle. He’s clearly regal yet with an air of spontaneity and carefreeness surrounding him. It’s even more noticeable with his cooing at the young children, crouching down to play around with them.

“Well, aren’t you a big fellow!” The bearded man laughs out as he pokes the belly of a small Balmeran child, still mostly in rock formation. “Just barely out of your shell and things have already gotten a bit _rocky_ , eh?”

There’s giggles around the area, probably from the charmed parents of the Balmeran, when Keith clears his throat to interrupt the scene. It’s all cute, but there’s no way someone from the Altean Royal Castle would just drop by in a mostly deserted city without a reason. “Sorry to interrupt, but what’s going on?”

At that the bearded man is reminded of his duties, and he stands firmly and rigid again. He clears his throat, places his arms behind his back, and shouts, “Citizens! I am Coran, close advisor of the Royal Family, and I bring a proclamation from the Altean royalty!” Everyone’s holding their breaths, waiting for him to share the proclamation, but as soon as he does they all wish he hadn’t.

“The Galra have infiltrated planet Altea!”

Keith’s heart falls to the pit of his stomach, and he’s pretty sure he’s no longer breathing. He tugs his robe closer to his body and focuses on deep breathing, willing his panic and anxiety to subdue. _This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this cannot be fucking happening_. Any and all attempts to calm down are entirely fruitless, as he feels his anxiety skyrocket at the immediate panic and screaming of the entire community. Parents are holding their children close to their beings now, some are holding themselves up by leaning heavily on the surrounding infrastructure, and Keith’s certain he hears someone vomiting. He’s only slightly sure it’s not him.

Coran’s face falls at the clear distress in all the citizens now. Nevertheless, he continues. “It is the order of King Alfor that one member, if there is at least one capable, from each family enlists in the Altean Army.”

The distress is still there, it’s almost palpable in the air, but the screaming has ceased for the most part. Everyone’s still panicking, especially Keith – which is _definitely_ not a good thing – but everyone’s fallen silent to continue listening to the proclamation. Coran pats around his body until, with a small “aha!”, he finds the information pad in his pocket and takes it out. Pressing his hand on the surface, the device lights up and projects a list of names. “I have a list of all the families residing here. If you could ever so kindly step up and press your hand, we’re just registering you received the proclamation. There’s safety in being able to crunch out the numbers of how big – or small – our backup army will be.”

One member from each family steps up and they all form a line. Keith purposefully goes to the back of the line, willing himself to calm down as much as possible because, despite not having directly checked, given past experiences he’s sure he’s started shifting. And if anyone notices, he’ll be killed in a second.

Coran’s noticeably trying to soothe everyone’s nerves as much as he can. He’s making casual conversation with all the citizens that step up, smiling and making children laugh, trying to put their parents slightly at ease. Usually, Keith is thankful that they live in the middle of nowhere because there’s less people to deal with. Now, though, that only means there’s less people in the line and, before he knows it, it’s his turn to step up and press his palm on the device.

He’s frozen in place, though. Keith’s hands, fingers, legs – his entire _being_ is trembling, so devastatingly afraid he’s unable to mask it. His fingertips grab onto the paws of his robe to try and quell some of the uneasiness drifting over him, but it’s to no avail. In such an open, broad space he feels like everything is closing in. The citizens around, Coran, himself – he can’t see or hear or feel any of it, only the steady, frantic beating of his heart against his chest. For a tick, he considers running away. Knowing the state he’s in, however, that would probably cause more harm than good. Before he can consider other options, there’s a firm yet gentle hand clapped on his shoulder.

He looks up, eyes wide and crazed, and sees Coran looking at him with the gentlest of smiles. For some reason, he feels more soothed. Not entirely, not enough to calm himself, but enough to be able to breathe properly. “Hey,” Coran interrupts his inner chaos. “It’s all going to be alright, yeah? Who knows, maybe you won’t need to go. Or if you go, maybe you won’t even see battle. It’ll all be okay, yeah?”

Keith knows it isn’t going to be okay, but he finds himself nodding along anyway. Slowly, with slight tremors, he presses his palm on the device. He’s careful enough that his hand is still covered by his robe, the slight shades of purple marring his pale skin practically unnoticeable. The device rings and Coran glances at it, reads what the screen says and urges Keith to follow him with a flick of the hand. The crowd is starting to disperse, so Coran yells, “You have to be at the training grounds, next to the Castle, as soon as the red star rises! That’s when the first rollcall will be, and Princess Allura does not tolerate tardiness! Have a good night, hope everyone rests well!”

Coran walks towards the pod he flew in to arrive here, Keith following closely. When he reaches it, he turns around with a serious expression on his face. “Keith Kogane, yes?”

“Yes,” Keith’s voice doesn’t sound as confident as it should. Honestly, Keith feels a touch away from breaking apart. Did Coran notice his hand? Did something come up when he pressed his palm?

“You are Takashi Shirogane’s adoptive brother, correct?”

Keith’s eyes widen considerably and his throat feels dry. “How do you know his full name?”

“Altean records have all previous soldier’s names and profiles on file,” Coran answers. “Don’t worry, his name is not public knowledge as of yet.”

Slight relief washes over Keith, but then he realizes… _no, absolutely not_. “You’re not going to ask if– “

“It is my duty to inform you that the Royal Army’s executive Princess Allura has requested The Champion’s aid in this battle.”

“No, absolutely not!” Keith immediately shouts, his throat closing up. “There is no way in hell I’m letting my brother go to war again.”

“If you take some time and – “

“ _No_ , the final answer is no!”

“Now, Keith, if you just – “

Keith’s absolutely livid, though, and not even acknowledging that Coran’s attempting to speak. “No! Did you know that he’s still injured, huh? He’s still recovering from wounds he received _five years ago_ because of _your army’s infiltration orders_ \- “

“Keith!” Coran shouts, interrupting him mid-rant. “If I may speak, please?”

Keith lets out a harsh huff of breath, ire still etched on his countenance. “What.”

Coran clears his throat and says, “I have come here to inform you of two things. The first, is that the Royal Army has _ordered_ that at least one member from each family enlists. Second, that the Royal Army has _requested_ that Takashi Shirogane join this battle.”

He takes some time to fully process what Coran’s saying. There’s a technicality. A loophole. There’s _something_ there that saves Shiro from going. “So, what you’re saying is…”

“I did not say anything,” Coran winks. “I just fulfilled my duties.”

With that he heads inside the pod, prepares it for launching, and blasts away. The red star is nearly set, the sky a deep mess of violet and indigo hues. The wind’s harsher now, swiftly dispersing the colors in the night sky, and as it breezes past Keith’s standing figure he wonders if he’s meant to be a part of the shades; muddled, watered down, blending in. He realizes, though, that if he’s ever any shade of violet unaccompanied by blue or yellow or black marring his skin, there’s no blending in for him but rather bleeding out.

“Shit,” Keith murmurs to himself, biting into his lower lip, canines sharp enough to rupture the skin. He starts walking back to his shack, steps heavy. “Fuck, what am I going to do?”

The question’s a stupid one. There’s only one answer; he refuses to let Shiro go, so there’s only one other thing he _can_ do – he needs to go in Shiro’s place.

As soon as he reaches the shack, Keith is a man on a mission. Shiro hasn’t come back yet, so he immediately dashes to Shiro’s room. It’s small-ish, much like Keith’s room, much like the rest of their shack. Shiro’s room is not exactly a _mess_ but it’s not the cleanest either. He clearly left in a hurry, the clothes he was wearing before changing and leaving all bundled up on the floor. Keith lets himself smile slightly, holding the memory of it engraved in his head before he sighs softly. “Okay, if I were old armor, where would I be?”

The most obvious place would be the closet. The probabilities of it being there, though, are slim – knowing Shiro, he probably guessed that at some point he would have to go back, guessed Keith would immediately take his place, so he’d have probably hidden it somewhere Keith wouldn’t immediately search. He drops to his knees and crouches down, as close to the floor as humanely possible, and looks under Shiro’s bed. _Nothing_.

Searches in the small dressers to the side, nothing.

Rifles through the _suspicious_ pile of clothes, messy in a neat way, in the corner of his room. Nothing.

Checks under the bed covers, nothing.

“Ugh,” he throws a stray piece of clothing against the wall. “His room isn’t _that_ big, where the fuck could he have hidden it?”

“Did you check the closet?”

Keith lets out a very unmanly squeak and jumps, startled, landing on top of the bed. “Shiro,” he manages to say, catching his breath. “I didn’t hear you walk in.”

“Your reflexes need sharpening,” The broader man has his arms crossed over his chest. His face is unreadable, which isn’t a good thing. His lips are quirked into a small frown. “How do you expect to survive in the army if you aren’t paying attention to your surroundings?”

Keith flinches at the steel of his voice, roughly slicing his skin deeply. “Listen, I- “

“Were you planning on telling me, Keith?” He steps forward. Keith’s still on the bed, unmoving.

“No,” Keith confesses.

“So, you were just going to leave, with no note, no warning, _nothing_?” His voice, its volume is increasing and increasing, the roughness around the edges getting sharper. Keith’s close to panicking now, his hands curling into fists on the sheets.

“No, that’s not it, either,” Keith’s voice takes an uncharacteristic fragility. “I was going to leave a note. I just wasn’t planning on telling you about the enlisting.”

They’re both breathing harshly, chests heaving, worry etched on their faces. At times like this, Keith briefly wonders if they’re truly not related by blood. They’re too alike one another. After what feels like endless vargas, Shiro exhales softly and walks towards the closet. His posture still holds some rigidness, but he opens the doors of the closet with much more gentleness than Keith would have expected. Shiro moves the clothes from the middle out of the way until his armor’s revealed. It’s shining slightly, or maybe it’s just Keith’s imagination. It’s broad and wide; chest, arms, thighs, and leg pieces a pale white while the rest is black, reminding them both of the particular role Shiro played in the last war. He takes it out slowly, carefully dragging it out along with the helmet.

“Normally, I would say this would never fit your toothpick-slim body,” Keith huffs while Shiro chuckles. “However, paladin armor is supposed to be form fitting. So just… try it on.”

Keith reaches out for it with hesitant hands. “Does it have to be black? Isn’t there a way to change the color on this thing?”

Shiro chuckles behind him as Keith moves to his room to change. He closes the door for a smidge of privacy but he can still hear him clearly. “Don’t worry about it too much. Mine’s only black because of, well, you know. Once you put it on it should be fully – “

Keith walks out in that precise moment, the armor that looked too big on the hanger now fitting his body like a glove. He hasn’t seen himself yet, they don’t have any mirrors, but he notices that certain details of the armor – such as the knees and wrist parts – were previously black and now they’re red. “Ah, see?” He twirls around in front of Shiro, who’s gaping slightly, his face unreadable once more. “This is more my style. How did I make the colors change? Can I change it to whatever I want, or is it just red?”

Shiro’s silent for a while and then stutters out a response as best as he can. “No, no, just red. Red, yeah, just red.”

Keith grins, still wiggling around in the suit. “Nice.”

There’s a slight light gleaming from the window, then. It’s blood red, clashing with Keith’s, and it’s a dull reminder of what’s to come. _The red star’s about to fully rise again_.

Keith knows he should leave soon, the shack is pretty far from the Castle grounds, but he doesn’t move. He’s patiently waiting for Shiro’s go ahead, and his brother knows it, but he’s trying to drag it out. Key word: _trying_.

“Shiro,” Keith breaks him out of his reverie. “I need to go.”

His voice is clearly strained. He’s noticeably nervous, anxiety gripping onto his being. “Okay,” Shiro nods at him and extends his hand, pleading Keith to grab it. He does so, of course, and grips his hand a little too tightly. “Before you go, there’s two things I need to give you.”

“Alright, what is it?”

Shiro leads him inside his own room, surprisingly. Keith’s confused but remains silent as Shiro releases his hand, goes to his dresser and drags it away from the wall. “Woah, Shiro, what the fuck?”

“Trust me.”

Keith’s never moved any of it around, leaving everything these past years exactly how Shiro placed it, so he’s surprised when he sees something glinting against the wall. Shiro’s crouched down slightly and picks it up, standing straight once he has it firmly secured in his hand.

When he’s facing Keith, the younger boy asks, “What’s that?”

“This is a dagger,” Shiro flips it around with his fingers casually. “I got it from the Blade of Marmora, to give to you when you were ready.”

“Blade of Marmora?” Keith bites his lower lip. “They’re the ones that helped you out, right?”

“Yes,” He hands it to him with slight hesitance, but Keith picks it up from the handle firmly. It’s short, possibly the same length as his arm from the wrist to the elbow, with something like gauze wrapped around the handle. There’s a gem at the juncture where the handle stops and the blade starts, a bright gleaming purple. There’s a strange symbol on it that he doesn’t recognize, but he doesn’t question it. “Listen to me very carefully, Keith. This blade is made of Luxite, which means…”

“It’ll make me shift,” Keith looks up from the blade into Shiro’s eyes. “When? How?”

Shiro shrugs. “From what I understand, it’ll _advance_ your shifting process. As soon as it starts, you’ll turn fully in five or so minutes.”

Keith inhales sharply at that. It usually took around five minutes for it to spread across his _hand_. Shiro continues, “It’ll activate when your bloodlust is at its peak. So, I advise that you not draw it out during battle unless it’s absolutely necessary. With it, though, you’ll be ten times more powerful than you normally are.”

“Okay, I understand.”

Shiro reaches into his pocket and takes out a small square-ish device. “This is the second thing,” he hands it to him. “I got it from my Olkari friend.”

Keith carefully places it between his thumb and index finger, flipping it from side to side. “A chip?”

“Something like that,” Shiro smiles. “It’s a device that, when pierced through the skin, sends electromagnetic impulses to certain neuronal synapses in your brain to kickstart a reversal.”

“English, please?”

He laughs. “You stab yourself with it anywhere on your body, and it reverses your shifting process.”

“Oh.”

“It’s only good for one use,” Shiro says. “I would advise you to use it whenever you use the dagger, _but_ I realize that you’re not entirely in control of your shifts so if you start shifting in public, then…”

“Yeah, I’ll use it then,” Keith says, placing the chip inside the gauze-like binds around the dagger’s handle.

A silence falls upon them and Keith looks at the window as the red star’s slight light becomes brighter. Now he _really_ needs to go. Keith’s gaze shifts from the window to his brother’s face, who’s clearly trying his best to hold it together. “Well,” Shiro swallows shallowly. “I guess it’s time for you to go.”

Keith nods, but neither of them move. It’s a dobosh or two before Shiro clears his throat and walks out, making his way towards the living space. Keith follows him.

“You should take the cycle, you’ll get there on time with it.”

He nods again and lets a brief silence make its way between the two of them before whispering, his voice trembling slightly, “Aren’t you going to try and stop me?”

At that Shiro smiles, the unshed tears Keith didn’t notice gathering in the corners of his eyes falling. “I intended to, yes. I was going to do my best to force you to stay, but I know it’s not going to work. As much as I want to go instead of you, I know that this is something you feel like you need to do.”

Keith lets a small smile grace his lips. He doesn’t respond, just lets Shiro lead him outside the shack to the back, where the red mobile motorcycle is. It’s huge, boosters long and wide like wings; Shiro and Keith built it alowly together in the past year. The red star is gleaming, tinting the sky pink.  He jogs towards the motorcycle and drapes his leg over it, situating himself comfortably on the seat. He presses the palm of his hand on the screen, powering it on. The machine roars to life, reminding Keith of a ferocious cat, and he places his hands on the handlebars.

“So, I guess this is it,” Shiro says, having moved next to him, looking at him with a crestfallen expression.

“Yeah,” He breathes out. He throws his arms around Shiro’s broad shoulders and grips as tightly as he can, willing himself to stop the tears from falling. “I love you, Shiro.”

Shiro lets out a watery laugh, placing his arm around Keith’s side and breathes in deeply. “Love you too, Keith. Please, send messages through a Balmeran crystal or something. Just – let me know you’re okay, yeah?”

“I will,” he promises. With that, Shiro finally steps back, careful to mask his face. If Keith were to see him crying, there’s a chance he’d lose his conviction.

Keith needs to go, he needs to _leave_ before he can overthink everything. Biting his lip too harshly, feeling the wind nip at his cold, wet cheeks, he jets off. He soars high in the air, quick as lightning in the direction of the red star, elevating until Shiro’s barely a speck in his peripheral view.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH I'VE HAD THIS CHAPTER READY FOR LIKE THREE DAYS AND I JUST FORGOT TO PSOT IT IM SORRY
> 
> HOPE IT'S COOL ENJOY

It takes Keith approximately half a varga to reach the center, where the soldiers are supposed to gather around. He isn’t quite sure what to do with his motorcycle, so he hides it inside a rocky cave and urges himself to remember its location. He worked too damn hard on that cycle to lose it.

It’s quite easy to spot the training grounds from the cave. Long, vast terrain with a multitude of different landscapes and environments. There’s a huge body of water to the right, resembling an Earthen ocean yet orange instead of blue, with rocks and wooden pikes emerging from the ground. He can see some soldiers jumping from rock to pike; it’s a landscape to test for agility and speed. To the left there’s mountains, tall enough to scrape the sky, extended across rocky, bumpy terrain. There’s a marked pathway paved on the outside – it’s a landscape to test endurance. Keith can’t see much from the far back, but he’s sure it’s something involving magic practice; the area is entirely encompassed in a dark atmosphere, with shining bolts and surges of quintessence breaking through in some occasions.

In the middle of it all, is the center. It’s plain for the most part, a simple alleyway for soldiers to move around, gather up, and communicate. Long tables and tall chairs are around; it’s probably the space where they’re all to eat as well, he assumes. In the edges of the center there’s hundreds of living arrangements, diverse according to whoever lives there. They all resemble tents, but some are taller, others are made from branches; there are some that look like small caves, others that look like igloos. In fact, there’s even huge, gaping hole in some areas.

At that, Keith realizes he didn’t think about living arrangements _at all_. He doesn’t have a tent or anything like that with him, he can’t control the ground or the air or the trees – hell, he can’t even control himself at times – and the cave where his motorcycle’s in is too far off the training center. Well, shit. Could he get away with just… dangling off a tree, maybe? There’s no harm in _trying_.

By the time Keith walks in, there are probably a hundred of soldiers in the center, all from diverse species interacting with one another.  The ones that Keith can most notice are the ones he passes by, and he knows that since the destruction of almost the entire universe all of the surviving species gathered in planet Altea; however, he's never truly experienced the diversity of it all, living in the middle of nowhere with mostly Balmerans as neighbors. A Druxine is sharpening zer weapon, gleaming with Olkari technology fused within the blade. Two Olkaris are on the other side of the path, laughing with one another as they poke around an Arusian's gadget belt. There’s a group of five or six Traks poking around the ground and digging holes, while a group of Hyanzers fly over them, wings spread wide, dropping what seem like seeds of some sort. So far, he's yet to see any humans or human hybrids.

In addition to species, Keith can't help but notice another stark difference between him and the soldiers here – their armor. The other soldiers gathered around donned an armor almost identical to his own, except for the color. Everyone's armor was pale, bone white, and Keith's standing out like a striking, blossoming wound on unmarred skin with his red accents. Suddenly, despite no one acknowledging his presence, he feels uncomfortable in his own skin - well, armor, but it clings so tightly onto his body it's basically a second layer of skin - and looks for a way out, rushing straight down the path to see if he could find somewhere isolated, somewhere he could stay and ignore everyone else.

Walking past some of the other soldiers, he notices some heads perk up but dutifully ignores them. He takes his helmet off as soon as he reaches the end of the center path, breathing in the fresh air as he looks sideways, searching for solitude. To his left there’s a training ground with robots sprouting out from seemingly everywhere, surrounding the soldiers there. Although training always seems like a nice option, he knows he’ll be doing plenty of it during the next few days so he’s looking to relax a bit.

Keith glances to his right and sees four soldiers. Two of them are standing almost at the end of the street, while the other two are closer to the intersection, closely talking to each other. He can’t notice much about them from this distance, but there is something that catches his eye – three out of the four have colored armor, much like his own. The two farthest from him are yellow and green, while the one talking to the colorless soldier is blue. He’s not quite sure what it all means, honestly. _Maybe they know, I should ask_ , he thinks, and heads to the right.

Fifteen or so steps in, Keith notices certain features about the soldiers in colored armor. Yellow is broad and tall; short, cropped brown hair, dark skin and an orange bandana wrapped around with head. Green is a stark contrast of Yellow; short and small, pale skin, huge glasses, and shaggy light brown hair that reaches their neck. Keith is facing Blue’s back, so he only notices his hair – dark brown, short, and slightly wavy – and that he’s tall and lean, slightly lanky. Despite their current proximity, there isn’t much else he can see; however, he’s close enough to be able to hear the Blue’s and Colorless’ conversation.

“You know, back in my town they used to call me _the tailor_ ,” Blue says, a suggestive tilt in his tone. “Because of how I _thread the needle_ , if you know what I mean.”

The colorless soldier giggled. Keith’s just trying to figure out how in the world he could make that phrase anything even remotely sexual. “So, you’re a fighter pilot?”

“Trained in it, yeah,” Blue says, arrogance seeping in his voice. “Though I’m better known as the Sharpshooter.”

“Oh, really?” Colorless leans in slightly, her face inching towards Blue’s as she runs her fingers lightly over Blue’s arm. “Did you have a nickname as a sharpshooter as well?”

Blue smirks. “They used to call me _the revolver_ ,” his lips centimeters away from her neck, barely grazing it.  “’Cause once I’m loaded, baby, I can get off six times.”

There’s so much laughter after that, in different pitches and from different directions. The other two soldiers – Yellow and Green – are full on _cackling_. Yellow’s subtler, trying to hide their laughter behind his hand, but Green’s practically on the floor. They’re doubled over, hand on their stomach and face red – the stereotypical picture. Blue immediately steps away from Colorless and crosses his arms, facing Yellow and Green. “Could you _not_?”

“Not your best work, buddy,” Yellow says. Green’s still struggling to take a breath.

Blue scoffs at that. “Oh, _come on_. That was good!” He turns towards Colorless, who’s looking at all of them confused, her three eyes blinking in quick successions. “That was good, wasn’t it?”

“Poor thing doesn’t even know,” Green squeaks out, voice breaking out in between chuckles. “Even the red soldier behind you is laughing at ya!”

Keith stops chuckling as Blue turns around to face him and – oh. _Oh_. Keith didn’t expect this.

Keith is maybe two or three steps away from him, and he regrets not being farther away. Blue’s eyes remind him of Neptune, a dark shade of cerulean that starkly contrasts some of the shining scales around his eyes and sides of his face. The scales are small, appearing more like gems, and all are multiple hues of light blue. Those aren’t the only marks on his face; under each eye, on top of his cheekbones, there were pink triangular marks – Altean marks. Caramel colored skin, slightly hooked nose, thin rose lips – Keith _really_ regrets not being farther away, because he’s pretty sure he’s just outwardly gaping right now.

 _Keith didn’t expect him to be this devastatingly beautiful_.

“What are you laughing at, _Red_?”

Keith’s broken out of his stupor by Blue. His voice had barely concealed venom, lips turning into a scowl. He seems annoyed, so Keith just shrugs. From his peripheral view, he sees that Yellow and Green are walking towards them while Colorless is casually walking away from the entire scene.

“You,” Keith replies simply, a small smirk grazing his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest. “That was hilarious. Really closed the deal there.”

“Huh, that’s funny. I don’t recall asking for your opinion,” He squares up in front of Keith, showcasing that he’s slightly taller than him. Not by much, but it’s still noticeable.

“You literally asked me what I was laughing at,” Keith scowls.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you to eavesdrop! Ever heard of _minding your own_ business?”

He makes sure to stare at Lance, trying his best to be intimidating but it’s hard to maintain a glare while at the same time holding himself together so he doesn’t melt. “With a voice as loud as yours, it’s hard not to listen in to whatever you’re saying.”

Blue snarls at him. “Huh, since you’re so good at listening how about you _shut your quiznak_ , huh, buddy?” This must be some kind of test, surely, because the blue soldier is harshly jabbing at his chest plate with every syllable. He was going to let it slide, he _swears_ , but Blue goes to jab at him _once more_.

Keith grabs his wrist and tugs harshly, forcing the taller boy to crouch slightly. “Poke me one more time, and I’ll make you wish you were stuck on the other side of a wormhole.”

“I’ll stick _you_ in a wormhole!” Blue yells and pushes him away. He hears one of the other two soldiers say _oh no_ , hears them both quicken their pace but they’re too late. Keith’s fist is harshly connecting to Blue’s nose before he can even think twice about it, a purely instinctual reaction.  

 _Fuck_ , he just punched the gorgeous soldier.

“Ow, what the _fuck_ ,” Blue yelps out, stumbling backwards. His hand goes to his nose immediately, covering it. Keith really hopes he isn’t bleeding. “I’m bleeding, fuck.”

Well, there goes that. The two other soldiers finally arrive, Yellow going towards Lance and Green going towards him.

“You have to tilt your head towards the sky,” Yellow tells Blue, gently tilting his head upwards. “It’ll stop the blood flow.”

Blue mumbles something Keith can’t quite understand, but he doesn’t have time to try before Green is in front of him, right hand held high. “Dude, nice.”

Now that Green’s in front of him, Keith notices the finer details. Huge brown eyes covered by glasses that clearly have no description, and there are thin, branch-like stems around the outside of their eyes, over their cheekbones, and their jaw. The stems aren’t protruding like Lance’s scales are, seeming more like a part of their complexion. There’s something kind of familiar about them, but Keith can’t place what it is.

Keith stares at the hand like it’s personally offending him. “Uh, what?”

“A high-five? For the punch?” Green says. “It was a nice punch.”

“Don’t congratulate him for hurting me, I’m your friend!”

“Oh, _shut your quiznak_ ,” Green mocks Blue, imitating the way he had said it to Keith earlier. They lift Keith’s hand and force it to clap against theirs. “You had it coming.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing! And from my own friend!” He turns towards Yellow, who’s still nudging his head upwards. “You’ll defend my honor, won’t you?”

“Well,” Yellow sighs with a soft smile. “You _were_ jabbing at his chest. Not cool, man.”

“ _Et tu, Brute?_ ”

“So,” Green _gently_ pokes at the armor pieces that are red. “Why are you red?”

“Actually, that’s why I came to you guys,” Keith scratches the back of his neck, much more relaxed than before. “I thought the colors were a normal thing, but everyone else’s armor besides ours is colorless.”

“Same thing happened to us!” Yellow steps away from Blue and walks up to them, smiling brightly. Yellow’s eyes were a kind dark brown and there were rune-like marks, not protruding from his skin, in varying shades of brown and gray in the outskirts of his face. He was positively radiating sunshine, and Keith feels warmer just being in his presence. “After looking around a bit, we figured we might be the only ones that weren’t colorless. Good to know there’s one more!”

"One of us, one of us," Green chants in a low tone, grinning. They elbow Keith with enough force to have him grunting. “I’m Pidge, half-human and half-Olkari. Computer and technology specialist.”

“Hunk,” Yellow continues, smile never fading. “Half-human, half-Balmeran. Engineering specialist.”

“Are we all just gonna befriend the heathen who wounded me?” Blue grumbles. He’s walking towards them as well, his head no longer tilted upwards and his nose looks _fine_.

“Your nose – “

“Don’t think you’re getting away with that,” Blue crosses his arms. “You’re just lucky I heal quicker than most.”

Hunk nudges at him slightly. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

“Why should I? _This heathen wounded me_.”

“I hit you as a response, you started it!” Keith yells. “And who even _talks_ like that anymore?”

“Listen here, Pretty Boy – “

“Okay, okay, let’s calm down,” Hunk quickly breaks in, glaring at a snickering Pidge. “Remember those meditation videos your mom made us watch last Christmas? Let's practice that."

Blue’s eyes widen remarkably. “I’d rather die than do that here.”

“It’s either introducing yourself, or meditation. Your pick.”

“But I don’t understand why – “

“ _Introduction or meditation_.”

“Fine!” He looks at Keith, annoyance etched on his expression. “I’m Lance, half Altean, half human and Baku. Ranged Fighter specialist.”

“Baku?” There is no way in hell anybody _that_ pretty can be even remotely related to a Baku. “The underwater garden monster thing?”

“Ugh, Neanderthal,” Hunk hits him in the back of his head softly for the snarky response. “ _No_ , not the underwater garden monster thing. The civilization that lived alongside it.”

“Oh,” Keith says softly. “So, you’re half mermaid?”

Lance’s cheeks tinge pink. “ _Technically_ , a quarter mermaid, but yeah.”

He nods and, because he apparently has no functioning brain-to-mouth filter, asks, “If you’re a quarter mermaid, why do you have legs?”

Hunk snorts loudly, Lance just stares at him incredulously, and Pidge replies, “Oh my god, Red, you can’t just ask people why they have legs.”

At Keith’s confused expression – or Pidge’s statement by itself – Hunk completely loses it, guffawing so loudly he’s probably audible all the way across the training grounds. Lance is holding back but can’t control the snickers that escape past his lips. “It’s only a _quarter_ of my genetic makeup – the rest of me is entirely bipedal.”

“The rest of you is bi- _something­_ , that’s for sure.”

Lance’s face flushes entirely and glares at Pidge. “Can you _not_? For once in your life?”

“You’re asking me to renounce to the very essence of who I am, the core of my being.”

“Really? The core of your being is making fun of me?”

“You know it, babe,” They wink at him and Lance laughs. Hunk joins the three of them, his laughter incessant, making wild expressions and gestures with his face and hands. Keith can’t help but smile softly at that – they seem so comfortable with one another, all three of them. There’s a closeness and intimacy and _trust_ that Keith has only developed with his own brother. He can’t help but feel slightly envious.

They seemed to have continued the conversation, because Keith at some point dozed off and he’s entirely lost by the time Hunk’s pointing at him.

“– type, very obviously so. I love you, but if I start hearing you call out his name at night, I swear to my mom’s alaisa fa’apopo – “

“ _Quizank_ , Hunk, calm down! I don’t even know the guy’s name!”

Suddenly, all three heads snap to look at him inquisitively, and he’s slightly intimidated. He sincerely hopes they didn’t ask him a question. Regardless, all eyes are on him and he’s disgustingly uncomfortable at the rapt attention. Crossing his arms over his chest defensively and looking to the side, he asks, “What?”

“Your name,” Lance says. “What’s your name?”

Keith arcs his eyebrow. “My name?”

“Yes, your name. A word given to you by someone – usually parents – to refer to your person?”

“Oh.” It’s then that he realized he never introduced himself, like the fucking idiot he is. He _really_ needs to sharpen his social skills, Shiro would be so mad at him. “I’m Keith, close combat specialist.”

“Nice,” Pidge nods at him, their lips curling at the edges. “What about species?”

“Species?” He should have known the question was going to pop up sooner or later; it’s an important question, especially considering they’re at war. He wishes it had been later, though, the slight unexpectedness of it forcing uneasiness to wash over him. Not a good sign. His palms start sweating and he can feel the inkling of a characteristic itch at the back of his neck. “Does it really matter?”

“We all told you ours!” Lance scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking his right hip. “It’s only fair.”

“Also,” Hunk interjects. “You’re one of us now, we need to know your strengths and weaknesses for when we’re in war.”

 _One of us_. “That makes sense, yeah,” Keith blushes and firmly looks at the floor. There’s a slight pause as he considers the question. He’s definitely not going to tell them the truth – _how could he_? What other options does he have? He can’t say Altean, Olkari, Baku, or Balmeran; it’s too obvious. He doesn’t have the wings, or even indents, of a Drahuet or Aegilus. Too tall and pale to be Arusian. Lacks the brute strength and sharp agility of Druxians. He’s at a loss. Luckily, Pidge answers it for him. “I – “

“Hm, you don’t seem to have any physical alterations which are a must for any genetic variability, so…” They look at him, aghast. “You’re just human.”

Hunk and Lance let out small _ah_ ’s, like everything suddenly makes sense. Keith’s never felt stupider in his life, he’s sure. _Human, why didn’t I think of that_? “Yeah, that’s me. All human. Just a Korean guy. Human. Yes.”

Lance, for some reason, stares at him when he says that. His gaze holds no heat, he’s just looking at him as if trying to figure something out. “Interesting.”

“That’s so cool!” Hunk lights up, grinning widely. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a full human before. Or, if I have, it’s been a while.”

“Yeah, same!” Lance drapes his arm over Hunk’s shoulders. “Full humans are a freakin’ rarity nowadays, like Bigfoot or some other cryptid like that.”

“ _Legendary creature,_ ” both Pidge and Keith correct at the same time. He hears Lance murmur, “Oh, no, there’s _two_ of them,” to Hunk but before he can retort to that, two short arms are wrapping around his waist.

“Dude, I love you so much,” Pidge declares. “You’re my new favorite person.”

Hunk lets out an undignified squeak but Keith chuckles. He’s not quite sure what to do, his arms are dangling rather awkwardly by his sides, so he decides to do what’s natural. He lifts his right hand and pats the top of Pidge’s head, smiling down at them. “I appreciate you a lot, too, Pidge.”

Pidge looks up and returns the smile. “We _have_ to discuss this at length. Who’s your favorite – “

There’s a sudden sound crashing through, then; shrill, high-pitched trumpets and something that sounds eerily like whale calls. He looks around confused and hopes to find some answers in the three of them, but they’re already walking away towards the center.

Hunk notices he still hasn’t moved and beckons him to start walking. “Roll call. Wouldn’t want to miss it.”

Keith’s eyes widen and he rushes to meet with them, situating himself on the corner furthest away from Lance, right next to Hunk. Hunk is a very soothing presence, and Lance is just… strange. Not necessarily in a bad way, but he’s unsure as to where they’re at – if they’re on good terms or not – so he’s reluctant to be around him. Also, he’s just too fucking gorgeous and he wants to avoid the embarrassment that’s sure to come at some point when he can’t hide his blatant attraction to him.

They weren’t too far away from the center, so it only takes them a couple of minutes to reach the area. It is maddeningly crowded – all the soldiers were gathered around, an insufferable sea of white gleaming. There must be hundreds of soldiers there; Keith estimates around three hundred. They’re standing in front of the Castle, waiting for the Princess to come out. It’s a huge place, as expected from royalty; it probably surpasses the outside walls in height. The exterior is bone white with sparkling blue and black details. Four large pods stand like Balmeran crystals at its side, connected to the main castle yet not quite an immediate part of it.

About ten minutes pass and the Princess is walking out, fully donned with strong, compact armor. The style is similar than the rest of the soldiers’, though it resembles more theirs – Keith’s and the other three – insofar as having certain segments in black. It’s exactly like Shiro’s armor had been before Keith put it on. Her long, white, wavy hair is divided perfectly in half, two intrinsicate braids on each side. She’s holding a long spear, almost double her size, in her right hand – it’s bony white, much like her castle, with gold, blue, and black designs on both corners. Princess Allura’s countenance is serious, as expected in the midst of war, and her beauty is astonishing. The pink Altean marks seem to gleam from the distance, her dark skin and her strength the epitome of beauty and royalty. She’s the strongest fighter and most strategic leader in all of Altea – Shiro included – and it’s obvious just from looking at her. Keith had been too enraptured in her presence and fails to notice that everyone seems to have fallen silent, either waiting for her to speak or just as enraptured by her.

“Soldiers!” On cue, everyone stands up straighter and looks straight at her. Her close advisor, Coran, is at her side. “I would like to thank you for coming out and deciding to fight against the Galra in the name of Altea. Without your support and your skills, we would already not have a planet to protect.”

She smiles when she finishes speaking. It’s… strange. Princess Allura’s presence _screams_ authority yet there’s also a certain gentleness and diplomacy there. “Now, I know we’re short in time, but I need everyone to focus and make the best of the time we _do_ have. From what King Alfor, Coran, and myself have deliberated, we should have three to four months of training before we’re sent out to fight.”

 _Three to four months_. That’s more time than Keith expected – it might have to do with everyone already having _some_ sort of militia training in their backgrounds (ever since the fall of planer Earth, it’s been a requirement that everyone receives schooling in combat, ranged, and specialist fighting). It’s nice, though; he’ll have some time to attempt to learn how to control his shifting. Allura continues, “Now, we’ll just have a role call and discuss some minor details, such as background, specialty, and placement.” Many guards come out at that, all covered from head to toe in plain armor. They resemble the stereotypical knights from old Earth movies. They’re holding out a sort of tablet that Keith recognizes – it’s just like the one Coran had when he visited his area.

“These guards will help you register and set up! As your leader, I’ve taken the time to make sure and get to know a little bit about you all, so your placements have been assigned already. Please, step forward and register now!”

The soldiers rush towards the multiple guards, forming lines at each post. Coran seems to also be assisting and registering, yet there are only three soldiers in line there. Keith assumes it’s because everyone’s intimidated by the Princess – he is, too.

“Come on, let’s register directly with Coran!” Lance exclaims, already pulling Hunk and Pidge towards them.

Pidge digs their heels into the ground and slow Lance down. “What, no! Why can’t we just go through any other line?”

“ _It’s the Princess_!”

“Even more of a reason to _not_ go!”

“Uh, guys?” Hunk tries to interrupt but they pay him no mind.

“What’s your problem, Pidge?” Lance grumbles. “The line is shorter, we can just get it over with.”

“I don’t want to speak with the Princess,” Pidge crosses their arms and looks at the ground. “At least not right now.”

Lance visibly deflates. “Is this about – “

“ _Yo_ ,” Hunk interrupts once more, only this time more firmly. “I don’t think we have much of a choice right now.”

They turn to follow Hunk’s gaze and notice that Princess Allura and Coran are staring at them, watching carefully. They don’t say anything, yet it’s obvious that they’re expecting them to come forward. _Fuck, this is_ not _good_. Keith feels slightly nervous, yet the more they draw it out the worse it’ll be. “Let’s just get this over with,” He shrugs and walks forward, the other three following him. Hunk and Lance go directly towards Princess Allura while Keith and Pidge stick to the sides and reach for Coran.

“Hello, Keith!” Coran greets him warmly before shifting his gaze at Pidge in confusion. “Aren’t you-“

“Pidge Gunderson,” They interrupt quickly.

Coran nods sagely, eyes wide in understanding, and Keith feels out of loop. “Pidge Gunderson, yes. No need to place your hand and register, I’ll do it for you.”

“Thanks,” Pidge smiles at him softly and leaves to walk towards the group. When Keith glances towards them, he sees Lance with a charming expression and finger guns – probably trying to flirt with Princess Allura – and Hunk noticeably chiding him for it. The Princess seems to be laughing it off, though, so that’s certainly a good sign.

“Now, Keith,” Coran speaks in a low voice, a sense of urgency in his tone. “Let’s just register you before Allura –“

“Before I what, Coran?” Princess Allura interrupts him and walks towards Keith, cutting Lance off. Her eyes are curiously running over Keith, hand placed casually under her chin in a pensative manner. “You… I don’t know who you are. I’m sure I’ve looked into all of the registries but I’ve never seen you.”

There’s a silence among all of them after she speaks. Princess Allura’s grip on her staff tightens and she shifts in to a defensive pose. Honestly, he’s freaking the fuck out at this point, his chest and stomach burning as he feels a familiar itch start to spread along the expense of his back. It’s not even been a whole day and he’s already like this, he’s not going to survive. “Who are you, Red Paladin?”

Keith gulps. “I’m, uh. Keith. Keith Kogane.”

She looks at him apprehensively, her pose never faltering. “There weren’t any Koganes in the registries. Place your hand,” she indicates towards Coran’s lit up tablet.

“Princess, if you would – “

“ _Place your hand, Red Paladin_.”

It’s clearly an order, especially after talking over her advisor, so Keith does as he’s told. He spares a glance at Lance, Hunk, and Pidge who are all watching the scene unfold with curiosity. As soon as Keith places his hand – which, gratefully, is covered with black gloves from the armor – the projection brings up his profile.

**_Name: Keith Kogane_ **

**_Family: Shirogane/Unknown_ **

**_Species: Unknown_ **

**_Specialty: Combat, Flight_ **

**_Background: Unknown_ **

**_Placement: Unknown_ **

“Shirogane? _The_ Shirogane?” Princess Allura remarks. Pidge’s head turns wildly at him and Keith cringes under the harsh scrutiny in their gaze. “I didn’t know he had any relatives.”

“Did you even open his file, Princess?” Coran admonishes. Princess Allura flushes and casts her gaze to the ground, shaking her head. “Keith Kogane is Takashi Shirogane’s adopted brother. You have to open all of the files, Princess!”

“Well, I _assumed_ it wasn’t necessary to open his file! I expected Takashi to come here himself! After all, it was an _order_.”

“It was a request,” Keith snaps. Hunk and Lance gasp, Pidge murmurs _oh shit_ , while Princess Allura and Coran look at him wide-eyed.

“Excuse me?” Princess Allura’s voice is harsher than before.

“The Altean Royalty _requested_ Takashi’s presence, not _ordered_. Requests can be accepted or denied,” Keith stands his ground firmly, arms crossing his chest. “This particular one was denied. By me.”

Princess Allura glances at Coran with barely concealed rage. “Is this true?”

“Ah, well, Princess, you see... Language is such an interesting concept...”

“ _Coran_.”

He nods quickly, frazzled. “Yes, it’s true.”

Princess Allura shifts her gaze back at Keith, and he feels a bead of sweat run down the side of his face. “And may I ask _why_ , exactly, was my request denied?”

Keith’s lips quirked into a small snarl. “Do you seriously think he’d accept your request after the Kerberos mission?”

“Kerberos mission?” Lance asks. His countenance, like Hunk’s, is perplexed. Pidge’s plain unreadable, as if a flurry of emotions were passing by. “What was that?”

“None of your concern,” Keith deadpans. Lance is about to reply but Hunk calms him down with a hand on the shoulder and a soft _not right now, Lance_. Princess Allura’s expression and posture softened at the mention of Kerberos; she sighs and turns around.

“You _better_ be good at fighting, or else I won’t hesitate to bring your brother. We need to win this war, or else your brother and the rest of the planet will be done for,” She starts walking away, heading back inside the castle.

“Wait, Princess!” Lance yells out. “What about our placements?”

“Call me Allura, please.” She spares him a glance from over her shoulder. “As for your question – looking at the armor of all four of you, that’s rather obvious, don’t you think?”

Coran bids them goodbye and jogs until he’s by her side. Hunk, Keith, and Lance are left staring at them, still very confused. Hunk and Lance start talking with each other, trying to brainstorm what their placement might be. Pidge seems to be in their own world, not quite paying attention, and Keith is along the same line. However, when Allura speaks up once more, they all stop.

“You’re in the Voltron program, paladins,” Allura and Coran step inside the castle, the large doors automatically starting to close behind them. “Training starts tomorrow at the red star’s rise!”


	3. Make A Man Out Of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo everyone! I am so so so so so so SO SORRY for how absolutely late this chapter is. "I'll update every week" I say before not updating for over a month. 
> 
> I'm just dealing with life, you know how it is. HOPEFULLY I'll be able to deliver at least once a month ahh ♥ The story's just getting started hehe.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this! Let me know if you spot any mistakes, I am currently without a beta and, as I've mentioned before, English isn't my first language.

_“Wait, Princess!” Lance yells out. “What about our placements?”_

_“Call me Allura, please.” She spares him a glance from over her shoulder. “As for your question – looking at the armor of all four of you, that’s rather obvious, don’t you think?”_

_Coran bids them goodbye and jogs until he’s by her side. Hunk, Keith, and Lance are left staring at them, still very confused. Hunk and Lance start talking with each other, trying to brainstorm what their placement might be. Pidge seems to be in their own world, not quite paying attention, and Keith is along the same line. However, when Allura speaks up once more, they all stop._

_“You’re in the Voltron program, paladins,” Allura and Coran step inside the castle, the large doors automatically starting to close behind them. “Training starts tomorrow at the red star’s rise!”_

**X**

_Week 1: Ranged_

The first of the three trials is with bow and arrow, and Keith’s already dreading it.

“Do we have to?” He asks Hunk, who’s looking at the four bows placed on different rocks in their section. They’re each of a different color, matching each of the paladins in the Voltron program.

Hunk picks the yellow one and smiles. “We kinda do, buddy. Why, nervous?”

“Not _nervous_ ,” Keith swipes at his own angrily. “I just really hate ranged fighting. Not enough action for me.”

“Ah, yes,” Pidge speaks up from the side, pushing their glasses up the bridge of their nose. In their lap is Rover, a triangular robot that they built from scratch (with Hunk’s help); they’re tweaking at its hardware. “You seem like one of those edgy, self-sacrificial suicidal soldiers who jump in the middle of the fight with no regards to their own safety.”

Keith chuckles and humors them. “You barely know me yet you’ve described me so well.”

“It’s my special talent.”

Lance steps between Hunk and Keith to grab his own bow and arrow. Keith notices how comfortable he looks holding it. “I thought your special talent was making fun of me.”

Pidge shrugs. Their bow is the only one that’s still there, and it doesn’t seem like they’re going to grab it any time soon. “I’m a person of many special talents. An enigma.”

“You’re _something_ alright,” Lance mutters but gives Pidge a hug from behind, his lanky figure completely covering their petite one. Keith watches them with a fond smile, their interactions seem so effortless. It’s quite enrapturing.

There’s a sudden sound crashing through, then; the Altean call for commencement, similar to shrill, high-pitched trumpets.

“Is it just me or does that sound like whales?” Lance questions. Hunk and Pidge laugh, but Keith replies.

“Yeah, I thought the same thing when I first heard it.”

Their laughter intensifies and Keith can’t help but feel bashful. Lance, though, has a soft smile on his face and his cheeks tinged pink. He nudges Keith’s shoulder gently and chuckles, “Glad to know your hearing isn’t as bad as your sense of style.”

Keith looks at his outfit – classic half-torso red jacket, black undershirt, leggings, red boots – and scowls. “What’s so wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Lance’s wearing a brownish-green jacket and a light gray undershirt, blue pants, and sneakers. He doesn’t see much difference between their outfits, but apparently Lance does. “Red, you’re wearing a cropped jacket. _Cropped jacket_. And don’t even get me started on your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my – “

“Paladins!” Allura interrupts them with a frown. “You heard the alarm, correct? So why haven’t you started the trial?”

They all nod and run towards the target practice area. It’s located next to the combat training arena, and it has the same drones. The drones are side by side in a straight line, standing in front of a wall that has a target directly behind them. A headshot counts as the center, a hundred points, and the surrounding areas have varying scores. Cheeks, nose, and mouth are 75, the neck is 50, the other “body” parts all keep on decreasing. Placing his feet firmly on the ground about seventy meters from the drone, he looks around and notices that the other soldiers have already started. This specific bow creates new arrows as you strum the strings, he realizes, and searches for the other paladins.

Hunk’s on his left, aiming extremely carefully. It takes him maybe forty to fifty ticks just to _release_ the arrow, but it almost always hits his mark (no headshots yet, though). To his right is Pidge, who’s… sitting down. They’re sitting down, releasing the arrows quickly and with no aiming, but they always hit the face – Rover, their robot companion, is hovering in the middle between Pidge and the drone, and somehow redirecting every single one of their arrows. Keith’s pretty sure that counts as cheating, but he’s definitely not going to be the one to say something about it.

Next to Pidge, though, is Lance. And he’s a sight to behold.

He’s aiming quickly, taking two to three ticks with every arrow, but they’re all straight headshots. He doesn’t miss a single one. There’s a cocky grin gracing his face and his posture is entirely relaxed. This comes easy to him. It’s… it’s absolutely amazing.

Keith, though, manages to miss every single one of his shots. He doesn’t _miss_ as in the arrows hit the area around the drone, but all of them land on unimportant parts. So far, he’s managed to hit the drone’s thigh, side, and stomach – all repeatedly.

Coran’s doing rounds, checking on each one of them, and commenting.

“Lance, you’re doing amazing! Top notch!” Lance visibly perks up at the praise, blushing softly.

Coran looks at Pidge strangely before saying, “Well, uh, I’m not quite sure I understand your method – but it’s working! Keep up the good work!”

“Hunk! Great aiming, but try to lessen the time between each arrow!”

“Keith,” His shoulders tense up and he looks at Coran, hoping to express his despair through his eyes. “Practice makes perfect!”

Lance and Pidge laugh loudly at Coran’s comment while Hunk pats him on the shoulder, sympathetic. Keith groans and keeps trying, though now he’s slightly pissed so he starts doing worse.

Towards the end of the practice, his arrows are hitting the area outside the drone and he gives up.

-

The second trial is the same as the first one in terms of location and goal, though it’s with a gun instead of bow and arrow. Not just any gun – something resembling a rifle, so he has to aim carefully. The results are the same as with the bow and arrow, too, though Keith does slightly better with the rifle. Slightly. As in, he manages to _graze_ the shoulder. He’s sad to say that he’s proud of that.

-

The third and final trial, though, is entirely unexpected.

“So what you’re saying is, we can use our elementals?” Hunk asks, seeking confirmation.

The target and target area was the same, though when they had arrived there were no weapons in sight. The other soldiers were using spears and staffs, so Keith thought they’d be using the same thing, but that wasn’t the case. Allura and Coran went to them and told them, paraphrasing, that they “could connect with their roots and make weapons.”

“I’m saying you _should_ use your elementals!” Allura smiles at them and then urges Lance to step forward. “Lance, come here. Let’s activate the particle barrier.”

Lance smirks and winks. “Princess, you’ve already activated my particle- “

“I beg you, please don’t finish that sentence,” Pidge cuts him off, cringing visibly. Lance deflates, walking towards Allura while she glances at him, confused.

Allura and Lance set up a makeshift particle barrier surrounding them both and Coran. Allura then continues, “Lance’s exempt from this practice because, firstly, there’s no body of water immediately accessible here; secondly, because he’s landed every single headshot perfectly.”

Lance flushes at that and combs his hair back with his fingers, saying nothing but accepting the praise. The Commander then looks at Keith with a slight frown, “I know you’re simply human so you don’t have an elemental, but you’re free to try it with anything you have on or find lying around!”

 _Elementals_ refers to whatever element a person or creature can manipulate or thrive in. It’s heavily reliant on their species, of course; Hunk being half-Balmeran, his elementals are ground and rock. Pidge’s elemental is nature, since they’re half-Olkari. Lance is heavily a water elemental, Keith assumes, because of his Baku background; however, given that he’s also half-Altean, he supposes he might also have a shifting elemental. Alteans usually have them, they can shift to resemble just about any other species for diplomacy and, of course, infiltration.

As someone who’s supposed to be entirely human, he shouldn’t have an elemental. However, Keith _does_ have an elemental; it’s just a problematic one. It’s very uncommon nowadays for _them_ to have that elemental, but everyone who had that elemental was part of them. Therefore, Keith says nothing. “Alright, I think I know what I’m going to do.”

“Great!” She claps her hands harshly, grinning. “Start!”

Hunk touches the ground beneath him and it breaks apart, leaving chunks of rocks and stones. Touching the larger ones stemming from the ground, he transforms them into spear-like items and starts hauling them – along with the rocks and stones – towards the drone. He destroys it after seven hits, to the point that the drone does not regenerate afterwards.

Pidge orders Rover to bring them wood, branches, and leaves. Rover comes back in less than ten ticks, the items floating underneath it. As soon as Pidge touches it, though, it transforms into a triangular blade-like apparatus that hooks onto their fingers. Aiming their hand, they start shooting, releasing quick, strong blasts. They hit all of the important marks of the drones.

Now, Keith considers himself to be a simple man. Simple, but very guarded. He can feel Lance’s gaze burning into him as he lifts his shirt up slightly to grab the two knives that he taped to himself there. That’s two. Then, he tugs the leggings’ waistband away and sticks his hand inside, ripping off another knife he taped to his right thigh. Three. Leaning down, he rolls up the leggings on his left leg and grabs the one he hid there; four. Finally, he slips his fingers inside his right shoe and finds the last one – five. They’re small, about the size of his hand, but useful. He has another weapon strapped on him – his Luxite blade, which is taped firmly on the expanse of his left thigh, but he doesn’t take that one out.

“Mullet, what the fuck?”

Keith lifts his head and notices Lance staring in shock and amusement. Hunk, Pidge, Allura, and Coran are all the same, as well.

He shrugs. “What? I like to be prepared.”

“So you _taped knives to your body_?” Pidge asks, chuckling. “That’s hardcore.”

“And dangerous,” Hunk’s a bit intimidated. “What if you, like, hurt yourself?”

“I get scrapes here and there but it’s fine, nothing my body can’t handle.”

With that said, he places four knives on his left hand and holds the fifth in his right. He aims and, with a practiced flick of the wrist, throws the knife at an amazing speed. Keith does the same with the others, aiming quickly and hitting every single one of his marks; one on the neck, one on the mouth, one on each cheek, and a headshot.

Keith turns around and goes towards the rest of the group who are all staring at him, stupefied. Cowering slightly at the attention, he scowls. “I like knives, okay?”

There’s a silence following his statement that’s broken with Lance’s voice.

“That’s hot.”

**X**

_Week 2: Technology_

When Keith walks out to the center, he notices there’s something missing from the scene.

Hunk’s in the corner with Pidge manufacturing _something_ ; it looks like a dark, small cube. Lance is on the other side, opposite to them, his arms widely extending to the sides. He’s screaming at them and, now, Keith’s at a considerable distance from them. He shouldn’t be able to listen in, but.

“Come _on_ , Pidgeotto! I’ve been here for, like, seven years. I can feel – no, I can _hear_ my beauty withering away!”

Hunk responds, “How can you _hear_ beauty withering away?” at the same time Pidge says, “How can something you’ve never had wither away?”

Lance squeaks out a “rude!” and makes wiggles his fingers in the air. “Hurry up, Pidge! Throw it at me! Come at me, bro!”

“Lance, we still haven’t modified the – “

“No, Hunk, he wants it? _Let him have it!_ ”

Pidge presses their thumb on the center of the cube and it flies through the air, spiraling uncontrollably towards Lance, who’s grinning like a madman. In less than three seconds, the cube clashes against the center of Lance’s stomach and the lanky man is roughly hurled against one of the walls of the Castle. There’s a heartbreaking cracking sound, and the impact reminds Keith of a small explosion. His pace quickens without him noticing, and he’s running wildly towards where Lance is. Pidge and Hunk catch up to him as well.

“Lance, are you alright?” It’s such a stupid question, but it’s the only thing that comes out of his lips. There’s a lot of dust and sand in the air, he can’t even properly _see_ Lance himself. He doesn’t get much of a response, just a small groan.

“I’ve got you, buddy!” Hunk exclaims and rushes through the unclear area, no hesitation in his step. Pidge stays behind, their pose slightly hunched. They seem to be relaxed, the tightness in their fists and their lip-biting the only indicators of worry.

“Why’d you do that?!” Keith exclaims, his voice loud.

“He wanted me to launch it towards him!” Pidge crosses their arms over their chest defensively. “He’s usually my test dummy for experiments and gadgets, because of his quick regenerative abilities.”

“Recovering and healing quickly is worthless if he _dies_.” Keith should know.

At that, though, Pidge snorts. “Yeah, as if something like that would kill or even _phase_ the idiot.”

“What do you – “

“That was so fucking awesome!” Lance and Hunk emerge from the dust, the blue paladin’s arm wrapped over the yellow paladin’s shoulder while the latter cradles the cube in his left hand. Despite the nasty crash, Lance looks absolutely fine. “Nice work, Pidge! I’d say it’s a seven.”

“A seven’s good,” Hunk comments, inspecting the cube. “Maybe if we add Volk’urian gems on the inside, we could – “

“Wait a second,” Keith interrupts, horribly confused. “Lance, how in the world are you totally fine after such a nasty crash? Are you even in any pain at all? Also, what do you mean by seven?”

“Yes, I’m fine, Mullet,” Lance chuckles, smiling at him. “You were worried about me? That’s cute.”

Keith flushes. “That doesn’t answer anything.”

“I heal very quickly, it’s a Baku thing. It’s kind of weird.”

“It was very weird when we first met,” Hunk smiles sweetly, clearly reliving it. “The first time I saw Lance, he was dangling from the highest branch of an Gretskin.”

Keith’s eyes widen and looks at Lance, who’s blushing and scratching his upper arm, in utter bewilderment. Gretskins are one of the tallest trees in Altea, towering over even mountains, scraping the sky so highly that when Hyanzers do flying training they count them as in-air obstacles. “What, _how_?”

“I might have flirted with a beautiful Hyanzer and she was so disinterested, she might have flown me and dropped me there completely unwillingly.”

Keith still can’t imagine anyone rejecting Lance, honestly. Despite his horrible pick-up lines, he’s beautifully ethereal. It’s hard to picture someone being disinterested. “Serves you right, then.”

“I resent that!”

“Anyway,” Hunk elbows Lance softly. “He was dangling, right. And he still hadn’t fully outgrown his scales, so he just looked like a blue blob from afar. But he was screaming for help, so I moved towards the tree and started shaking it –“

“He shook the fucking tree! In what planet is _shaking the tree_ the best way to help me out?”

“I was eleven, okay! My reasoning was a bit off!” His defense is weakened by the laughter that’s barely kept at bay. “So, I shook it and Lance just. Fell off. And I didn’t catch him.”

“My head fell on a huge rock. I still have the scar from it,” Lance lifts some of the hair from the left side of his face. Keith walks to him, close enough to see the scales glinting like gems, and there was… absolutely nothing. Keith’s eyebrows furrow in confusion and Lance starts cackling. Why isn’t there – oh. He heals rapidly, no non-lethal wound would be on him long enough for scarring.  

“You’re a dick,” Keith pushes him away, walking towards Pidge. Lance falls flat on his ass, his laughter never dissipating.

“That’s not the worst part, though,” Pidge nudges Keith slightly, nodding towards Hunk. He takes that cue and continues, “I went over to him as soon as I could and I asked, ‘Are you okay?’ and the blue gremlin just laughs and says that it was fun and that he wants to do it again.”

Keith laughs, his head tilting towards the sky slightly. “Lance, what even.”

“I have an unusually high tolerance for pain! That, paired with my ability to heal quickly, made falling off a Gretskin fun.”

“For a hot minute, I thought he was a Galra because he healed _so quickly_ ,” Keith freezes, his shoulders tensing up. “I was absolutely terrified!”

“Ugh, don’t compare Lance to those disgusting aliens,” Pidge snarls, taking the cube from Hunk’s hand and turning away. “He might be obnoxious, but he’s not _that_ bad.”

“I am _not_ obnoxious!” Lance yells after them. “Besides, when have you ever seen a Galra this pretty?”

Pidge doesn’t respond to Lance’s teasing. He’s clearly trying to dissuade the tension that formed at the mention of the Galra, Hunk’s patting his shoulder encouragingly while he casts a worried glance at Pidge. Meanwhile, Keith’s just trying to keep the bile forming at the pit of his stomach to escape his mouth.

“It’s a sensitive topic,” Hunk murmurs to him, eyes never leaving Pidge. Pidge has walked to the other side of the center, back to where they were when Keith first came out. They’re inspecting the cube much like Hunk was a while ago, tweaking certain wires and streams with a tweezers-like apparatus. Their countenance is serious, completely devoid of emotion, and Keith can only look away and swallow the anxiousness and inadequacy threatening to asphyxiate him.

“Paladins, good morning!” Allura’s standing firmly in front of the castle’s main entrance. She’s standing ways away from the huge indentation on the side wall, so it’s safe to assume she hasn’t noticed it. “Ready to start training?”

“I was born ready, Princess!” Lance’s smirk spells mirth and mischief. He puts both hands inside his jacket’s pockets and cocks his right hip. “What’ll it be this week?”

“And why are we alone?” Keith asks.

“Great question, Keith!” She starts walking down to meet with them, never ceasing her speech. “This week we’ll be working with technology! This training will be solely centered on you four because you are our most equipped. You’ll be the frontlines, the ones we’ll be entrusting with the most dangerous of missions, because we know for a fact that you’re all the most capable. We’ll be training for uses in battle, and hacking – for information, bomb disarming, and system failure.”

“This is it,” Pidge walks forward, the stems-like thin branches on their face sparkling green. “My time to shine has come. This is what I’ve been training for. Step back, idiots, and let your King handle this.”

Lance and Hunk cackle loudly, holding onto each other for support, and Keith just smiles fondly at them from a distance. “You might be good at hacking but I’d like to see you handle a flying cube hurdled at you,” Lance mocks.

Pidge flippantly waves them away. “Please. I’d handle that with beauty and grace, unlike you.”

“Are you suggesting I’m not beautiful or graceful?”

Hunk hums. “No, I think they’re saying you did not handle the cube beautifully or gracefully.”

At Lance’s huff, Keith looks at Allura pleadingly. “Can you please give us the schedule or whatever so we can start?”

“Well, actually, we will be separating into teams for this training. Not everyone will receive the same training,” The four of them glance at Allura curiously. “As we all know, Hunk and Pidge are wonderful at technology and engineering, it’s their specializations, so you two will be in the _defense_ team.”

She then turns to Keith and Lance. “You two, however, are going to interact more personally in battle, especially Keith, due to your specializations. Therefore, you two will be in the _attacking_ team.”

“What do these team imply, exactly?” Keith asks.

Allura places her hands behind her back and answers. “For the defense team, there are two parts: firstly, set up traps for the attacking team, and then setting up a control base that is, by your standards, unhackable. Since this might require more individualistic work, I assume Hunk will mostly oversee the creation of the traps and the base while Pidge will work on the traps’ effects as well as the base’s program. You’ll have all of today and tomorrow to set up your defenses.”

Hunk shrugs while Pidge gives her a thumbs-up. They both walk away to where Coran is. Honestly, Keith hadn’t even _noticed_ the Royal Advisor until just now.

“Now, the attacking team,” Allura exclaims. Lance had placed himself next to Keith, close enough for their shoulders to be touching, at some point during the Commander’s explanation of defense. Despite having mermaid origins and clearly being a water elemental, his body radiates so much warmth. It’s… comforting. “Your job is to evade all of their traps, possibly destroy them if necessary. And then, when you manage to reach the base, hack it.”

“Hack it?” Keith asks. “I don’t know how to hack anything. Honestly, I don’t think I even understand what hacking _means_.”

“I do,” Lance offers, grinning widely before deflating slightly. “Well, not _everything_ , I might take longer to figure out longer or more complex codes, but Hunk and Pidge taught me a lot.”

Keith nods. “Will you help me out there, then?”

Lance casts him a glance, confused at first but then his face flushes. “Ye-Yeah, of course.”

Allura claps quickly, a resonating sound. “Alright! You two will also have two quintants to train together, know each other’s weaknesses and strengths, and strategize. I’ll be watching over from the inside, analyzing your every move,” She starts heading out to the castle. With a dazzling smile cast over her shoulder, she adds, “They aren’t taking it easy, so I suggest you two don’t either.”

Keith looks at Lance, who’s looking back at him with a startled expression, and gulps. This is going to be tough.

-

Training and _bonding_ , as the Princess so beautifully calls it, with Lance isn’t as hard as he thought it’d be. Yes, they butt heads more often than not, mostly initiated by Lance (technically Keith, since it’s almost always because he’s caught staring at the blue paladin) but overall, they grow to be more comfortable with one another. Lance has taken to calling Keith by a nickname, depending on how he feels; sometimes it’s _Mullet_ , other times it’s _pretty boy_ (which flusters Keith to no end, his entire face blazing red), and there are times where he calls him a simple _Red_.

“Hey Red,” Lance breaks Keith out of a daze. They’re almost done with their second – and last – day of preparing. Yesterday was spent mostly with Lance attempting to teach Keith some hacking basics and Keith not understanding anything at all. Today, though, they took the time to try and come up with a good strategy. Lance did most of the analyzing, since he knows Hunk and Pidge best, while Keith listened and did his best to contribute whenever he saw a possible flaw.

“Yeah?” He calls out. Keith’s about to leave the arena, desperately wanting to wash himself in the ocean.

“Come here for a bit.”

With a loud sigh, he turns around to face Lance just as something’s thrown directly in his face. He’s never been so thankful for his quick reflexes; he manages to catch it before it lands a hit. The item in his hand’s heavy – not unbearably so, but it takes some effort to hold – and long, almost his arm’s length. A gun. Looking up from it, he meets Lance’s eyes. “What’s with this?”

Lance shrugs and walks towards him. “I talked to Allura and convinced her to lend me one. Cool, right?”

“I guess, yeah, but why?”

He slings his arm around Keith’s neck and he wants nothing more than to melt under his touch. Instead, though, his natural reaction is to freeze and tense up. It’s not like he’s against casual touches, he’s just… not used to them. Better said – he’s not used to receiving them from someone other than Shiro. Lance immediately notices, though, and lifts his arm yet doesn’t leave his side. “Remember last week’s training, how you utterly failed at long-distance assault?”

He elbows him a bit too harshly, at which Lance yelps. “Fuck you, I did wonderfully at the last trial.”

“You threw knives!”

“Still counts!”

Lance lets out an exasperated sigh and turns slightly to face Keith. He places his hands on Keith’s shoulders roughly, and shakes him at every word. “I’m _trying_ to help you out! Do you _want_ to suck at this? Do you? _Do you_?”

Lance’s face inches closer and closer at each word, and Keith certainly wants to suck _something_. “I- No?”

The blue paladin smirks and starts rearranging the gun’s position in Keith’s hands, placing it adequately. “Then consider yourself blessed, the best sharpshooter in all the universes is helping you out.”

Keith can’t help but chuckle softly at that. “Alright, _sharpshooter_ , show me what you got.”

He winks at him – fucking _winks_ , he’s seriously out there trying to kill Keith – and runs to the other side, opposite to Keith. “Okay, shoot.”

“Shoot what?”

“Me.”

“ _You_?”

“Yes, me!” Lance laughs at Keith’s distraught expression and points at his right upper arm. “Try to hit me exactly here. Don’t worry, even if you hit straight on it won’t kill me, I’ll heal quickly.”

“You’re very dependent on your regenerative abilities,” Keith admonishes, a scowl on his lips. “That’ll be your downfall someday.”

“Possibly,” Lance shrugs.

Keith frowns. “You saw how bad I am at this. How could – I mean, why would you… you know…”

“Keith, what am I to you?”

Lance’s voice is firm, the usual quirkiness to it not exactly gone but not predominant. So many things run through Keith’s mind – the best range fighter in the Voltron program, an amazing strategist, one of the most intelligent people he’s met, undoubtedly the most beautiful person he’s seen in his entire life – but he settles with, “A fellow paladin. My friend.”

Lance smiles sweetly at that, his cheeks flushing beautifully. “You’re a fellow paladin to me as well, and you’re my friend. Therefore, I trust you.”

_I trust you not to hurt me unnecessarily._

_I trust you not to mortally wound me._

_I trust you not to kill me_.

Keith visibly and audibly gulps at the statement. He feels the thickness of it heavy on his chest, asphyxiating him, his anxiety rampaging. That’s – that’s so much, that’s _too much_ , fuck, he doesn’t know if he can handle it.

 _Will he stay the same even after he finds out_?

He can feel an itch spreading across his skin, concentrating on his lower and upper back. He doesn’t have his paladin armor on or his cropped jacket, just a simple black v-neck and leggings, so he starts taking deep breaths to quell his anxiousness. “Alright,” He just wants to get this over with. Keith lifts the gun so that it’s leveled with his chest. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Inhale, exhale, Inhale, exhale. Five, four, three, two… one…

His finger curls around the trigger and a large blast shoots from the weapon, a striking orange streaking the pink sky. Smoke follows the blast, covering the area surrounding him – it was definitely an older gun. Lacking sight (because even his granted night vision cannot possibly permeate through the thick fog), he waits and waits and waits; for Lance’s cry of pain, his chuckles at having missed, or just any sign of life from him. It doesn’t come.

“Lance?!” Keith lowers the gun and starts desperately yelling his name. “Lance! Blue, where are you?”

Still no response.

A bit of sentiment gets caught in his throat. “Lance! Lance, please, say something!” He’s about to run through the fog when a hand reaches out for him, almost falling on his shoulder.

Keith’s instincts run wild and he intercepts the hand before it can touch him, twisting the person’s entire arm behind their back and using the momentum to kick their shins and bring them to the ground. As soon as the body collapses with a groan, Keith’s on top of him, legs bracketing the body on each side as he pushes the twisted arm against the person’s back. Without intent, a soft growl slips from his lips.

“As much as I love having you on top of me, this kinda hur- _ow_ , Keith!”

Keith shakes his head to rid himself of whatever daze he’d been in. “Lance?”

“Who _else_ , Mullet?” Lance squirms underneath him. “Could you please just? You know? Get up?”

After maybe ten ticks, Keith releases his grip on Lance and stands up. Lance does the same, cracking his back as soon as he’s standing.

“Damn, Red, your reflexes are sharp!” Lance bemuses, slightly irritated. “And did I hear a growl?”

Keith flushes and guides his fingers through his hair, lightly gliding his fingers to make sure his ears are flat. “Sorry, I got very into it.”

Lance looks at him strangely, not saying anything but his cheeks are noticeably coloring. Keith frowns, “You okay? You seem very… red.”

Lance’s eyes widen and he awkwardly chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive manner. “Me? I’m fine! Totally a-okay! I was just… thinking about something…”

He finishes that with a wink, but Keith doesn’t acknowledge it. He nods and goes to hand him the weapon back but Lance pushes it back. “You didn’t do anything!”

“Well, you moved!”

“Of _course_ I’m going to move!” Lance argues. “An enemy isn’t just going to remain motionless. We gotta duke this out, battle royal style, Pretty Boy.”

He’s not exactly sure what that all means, but he giggles softly nonetheless. Lance keeps looking at him, big cerulean eyes piercing through his thinly-veiled cloak of false security, almost completely stunned. “Alright, Blue, let’s go at it again.”

“Hell yeah! But first,” He steps _way_ too into Keith’s personal space and places his hand on Keith’s. He’s pretty sure he’s stopped breathing at this point, and Lance softly urges it upwards, leveling it much like Keith did earlier but to the shoulder instead of the chest. He readjusts his grip on the gun, fingers tracing lightly over his own, the stark contrast of their skin absolutely beautiful. “How do you expect to be a good sharpshooter without a proper stance and grip?”

His breath falls on top of Keith, and when he glances up his eyes meet Lance’s, too close for comfort but he really doesn’t want to look or step away. Lance has the biggest grin, his entire countenance perking up at Keith’s gaze, and the shorter of the two can’t help but blush.

He takes two steps away, he _has_ to, because Lance was close – too close. It was dangerous territory; Keith’s calmed down slightly, but after his outburst, pinning Lance to the floor, he’s not quite sure if he’s started shifting or if his skin’s started blossoming streaks of purple. And with Lance so nearby, he’s sure his heart would have hammered out of his chest; his nerves would have taken over, his shifting accelerated, and before he knew it he’d have chains around his ankles and a muzzle over his mouth.

“Okay, quit the small talk. Let’s do this.”

They spend the remainder of the night until sometime in the early morning practicing. With Lance’s helpful tips, he manages to hit him on the upper arm three times. He hits other body parts enough times for Lance to start swiftly cursing in Spanish while Keith laughs it off.

-

It takes them three quintants to reach the control base. Pidge and Hunk took their roles _way_ too seriously. Keith assumes it has something to do with Lance, who apparently spends much of his free time pranking them, being on the other side; Keith’s just an innocent bystander who gets caught in the fire. There’s bomb-like items buried all around, underneath the ground, that Keith immediately detects and carefully avoids, but Lance isn’t as lucky – every three ticks, he hears a loud yelp and too many exasperated “Are you kidding me?!”

Keith helps him out once he’s passed, guiding Lance as carefully as he can but the blue paladin takes crater-liked steps and keeps stepping on everything.

_Mullet, buddy, are you trying to kill me?_

_It’s not my fault you don’t know what a step is! If you follow my directions closely, you shouldn’t have any problems!_

_If you were better at giving directions, I wouldn’t be blown up every five ticks!_

In the end, though, they fail the exercise because they cannot for the life of them figure out how to properly hack the base. Lance manages to get past the first four firewalls, but the remaining two stump him. Keith gets impatient and punches the base’s controls, leaving a hole through it. _Technically_ , he destroyed it, but Allura still frowns and sends him to the mountains to run laps until he realizes the fault in his actions. Needless to say, they don’t see Keith for a few days; Allura has to physically fetch him.

**X**

_Week 3: Combat_

This week’s training is Keith’s favorite _by far_. It’s finally something he’s extremely _good_ at, and he’s so fucking pumped.

They’re training again with the rest of the soldiers; Keith notices there used to be plenty more, so some must have either dropped or been kicked out. He shrugs it off and tunes in to Allura’s announcement.

“Soldiers! This week, as you know, is hand-to-hand and close combat. First, you will be honing your skills against the endless drones in our training grounds and then, towards the end of the week, you will be fighting amongst yourselves – safely, of course.”

She’s already explained that this is one of their most important training subjects, since most will be battling head on with the Galra. The crowd starts murmuring amongst one another, starting to disperse, but Allura speaks up once more.

“If you are defeated three times in a row, you will be sent home.”

Keith hears a soft _fuck_ coming from his side, and turns to find Lance, glancing at the Castle worriedly. He’s biting his lip, wringing his wrists desperately, tapping his foot on the ground – he’s anxious.

“Lance,” Keith steps nearer to him, his voice a soft whisper. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just,” His breath shudders. “Can’t go back home, y’know?”

He doesn’t, not really. Keith keeps a steady gaze on Lance, whose getting paler and paler by the tick – which is a feat in itself, since his skin’s a rich caramel. He’s not good at comforting people, doesn’t know _how_. So, he avoids all the emotional turmoil and goes for the one thing he can do.

“If you want, I can help you out after formal training,” He offers, gaze downcast.

Lance is silent for a moment, and Keith wonders briefly if he spoke loud enough for the blue paladin to hear him. His doubt’s squashed, though, when Lance nods briskly. “Yeah, that’d be good. Thanks, Red.”

“No problem,” Attempting to lift his spirits, he elbows him softly and smirks. “I owe you for that shitty sharpshooting session anyway.”

Lance outright cackles at that, eyes squinting at the sky. It makes Keith feel warm – that _he_ was the one that caused him to radiate sunshine. “I was the _best_ teacher! Besides, it’s a known fact that I’m the best sharpshooter – how do I even know if you’re any good at sword fighting?”

Keith smirks and his eyes glint mischievously. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Lance’s eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean?”

He only smiles and walks up to the front of the castle until he’s standing in front of Allura. “Commander, would it be okay for me to skip the training with drones if I can prove I’m more than capable? I wouldn’t want to overexert myself.”

It’s such a fucking lie, he can hear Pidge snickering at him. Although he loves combat training, this is the one he practiced every single day with Shiro. He knows he’s good, and he’s fine with training with actual people – it’s been a while since he’s kicked someone to the ground – but not drones. With people, Keith can control himself; however, he’s afraid of losing himself and shifting if he fights with drones for too long.

Allura smirks at him. “That’s perfectly fine. Let’s say this – if you can manage to complete the challenge I’m about to propose, then you’re exempt from this training entirely.”

“Great, what do I have to do?”

With one hand, she points at the combat drone training area – it looks like a football field, but with drones; it weirds him out a bit – and with the other she holds out a cloth. “Defeat three drones at level fifteen, without being able to see and without letting them land even a single hit.”

There are gasps and murmurs from the group of soldiers, even Allura’s looking at him with a defiant look as if she’s _got_ him; needless to say, it’s satisfying to see her robust persona deflate the slightest at his cheeky smile.

“Easy,” Keith grabs the cloth with a determined look, stunning Allura, and goes to the combat drone training area, standing in the middle. Everyone follows him, excitable, waiting to see what’s about to happen.

Wrapping the cloth around his eyes tightly, pressing it unto his skin, he breathes deeply and does his best to concentrate. He takes off his shoes, his bare feet touching the ground, and he also discards his shirt. There’s whooping from the soldiers and Keith’s sure he faintly hears a cry that sounds too much like Lance.

“So you can see better if they hit me,” Keith yells out, clearly speaking to Allura. He doesn’t receive a response, doesn’t wait for one either, and he curls and uncurls his fingers while making sure his other senses are more acutely aware. In this kind of exercise, taste and smell isn’t going to help much, but he can feel the vibrations of the ground shaking underneath his feet and listen for the quiet murmurs of the drones getting closer and closer.

Before long, the ground starts trembling but he can’t quite tell the exact location where it’s coming from. In fact, he can actually tell where it’s _not_ coming from, which means that all three drones were probably released at the same time.

He’s not surprised per se, but he _is_ nervous. It’s so, _so_ easy to give in to intense bloodlust when he’s in a dangerous situation, or a situation where he can be easily overpowered. Right now, he’s in both. He doesn’t have a shirt to cover up the expanse of his back, which is the area that usually starts shifting, so if he doesn’t manage to do this as quickly and calmly as possible, he might reveal himself. And honestly, Keith refuses to get murdered before he can do something useful with his life and prove himself.

The first drone tries to attack him from behind, the sword’s – which he had _no clue_ they had, he thought this was going to simply be a hand-in-hand combat fight – tip grazing dangerously his skin but before he can perforate it, Keith turns around with a strong kick. He hears a _clank_ of metal crashing against the ground, so he assumes he’s been able to kick the sword away. With that out of the way he grabs the drone with a strong grip and swings it around, smashing it against another drone that’s coming from his right. Keith hears one of the drones completely breaking apart but not the other, so he speculates it’ll come and attack him again.

Keith doesn’t have time to worry about that, though, because the third drone is charging at him from the right. He doesn’t feel the presence of anything on or beside the drone; that drone’s without a sword or external weapon. That makes this one way much easier to handle.

He lands three swift punches, strong enough to dent the metal, and grabs unto what he hopes is one of its arms. With a harsh pull, Keith rips it off with a swift maneuver that has the drone pressing against his back with the momentum. Afterwards, he reaches behind his shoulders with his hands, grasps the head of it firmly, and turns it roughly, ripping it off with a groan.

The drone’s body falls to the floor as Keith cleans off the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. He’s barely done anything, really, but he’s sweating so much – probably from the nerves. Deep breaths in and out, he fixes his stance so that his feet are pressing unto the ground, trying to sense around where the fallen sword from the first drone is. He manages to locate it but not quickly enough, and the second drone – the one he couldn’t destroy the first time around – is already headed his way, swinging something somewhat erratically (a sword, probably).

To avoid it catching him, Keith jumps and does a rough somersault in the air, carefully controlling the impulse of the jump so that he lands next to the sword. His feet crash painfully against the unforgiving ground, eliciting a _fuck_ from his mouth, but he reaches down to grasp the sword. At times like this he wishes he had, like, x-ray vision instead of night vision because he can sense where the sword is but not where the handle is; therefore, he picks it up from the blade, his entire hand wrapping around it.

“Ah,” Keith almost drops it in surprise, his hand stinging. He can already feel the blood dripping. Carefully, swiftly, he traces his finger along the sword until he locates the handle and grasps it with the hand that’s not bleeding. Keith can hear the drone marching straight to him, the trembles underneath his feet indicating it’s about ten feet away from him. When it’s three feet away from him he ducks, swipes at the drone’s legs with a spinning ground kick, and brings it down. Keith jumps on it as soon as it’s on the ground, caging it with both his legs at its side, and he pierces the sword through it.

His chest’s heaving achingly so, every breath he takes rapid and deep. The entire thing felt like half a varga but in reality, it must have not exceeded five doboshes. There’s a silence that follows his decisive victory over the robots and no one approaches him. Briefly, he wonders if his skin’s started coloring but he quickly dismisses it – he usually feels something akin to an itch, or a burning, and he felt neither.

Keith takes off the cloth from his eyes, squinting at the harsh starlight and goes to shadow himself with his hand on his forehead. He looks at the crowd of soldiers and they’re all looking at him stunned. Pidge and Hunk have shock written all over their faces, Lance’s countenance is harder to read. It’s clear he’s very much amused and impressed, but he also has traces of… jealousy? Admiration? Both?

Before he can get a good look at Allura, she’s walking over to him, head held high. “That was good,” She muses, casting him a harsh glance. “Too good. You managed to dent one of the drones with your bare fist. If it were anyone else, maybe I wouldn’t have thought into it as much, but aren’t you fully human?”

Keith gulps. He really should have withheld his strength way more. However, at her insinuation, he glared at her with his lips set in a deep scowl. “Do you expect any less from someone who trained with Shiro?”

It’s clear she doesn’t quite buy his point, but it’s enough to make her drop the subject. “Alright, you’ve proved yourself. You’re exempt from this training unless I deem you necessary.”

Keith gives a harsh nod and stands up, his legs trembling slightly from exertion as he picks up his shirt, and he walks towards the rest of the Voltron program.

“Dude, you were wicked cool!” Pidge pats him very roughly on the back after he’s put his shirt back on.

“And scary,” Hunk adds, poking his side. “Cool, but scary.”

“You can sure pack a punch, huh,” Lance joins his side and lightly punches his shoulder. “Also, you looked like a maniac wielding that sword out like that.”

Keith looks away at that comment – _like a maniac_ – and chuckles awkwardly. “My brother and I trained every day, he taught me everything I know.”

“You’ll have to teach me, then,” Lance winks. “Anything to be pressed against a hard surface with your body.”

Pidge and Hunk groan simultaneously while Keith turns fifty shades of red. “Goodbye, Lance,” He calls out as he walks away, willing himself to _calm the fuck down_ , when he feels a warm hand grasp his arm. He turns his head to the side and sees Lance there, still, biting into his lower lip. “Lance?”

“I’m serious,” Lance’s tone is hushed, his eyes darting everywhere but Keith himself. “I’m really bad at this training, and I can’t risk coming back home. I just can’t.”

“So you want me to… teach you?”

“More like train with me,” Lance corrects. “While I’m bad, I’m not entirely useless.”

That statement stings him and he speaks up about it before he could think twice about it. “You’re not useless at all, you’re perfect.”

There’s a choked gasp as his response, and silence. Keith wishes he could burn himself alive at this very moment. With an awkward cough, he continues, “Anyway, that’s okay, I’ll help you out. It’s the least I could do, since you helped me with ranged.”

“Yeah,” Lance’s voice is a bit breathless still.

Keith nods roughly, trying to shake the awkwardness off himself. “So, what do you say we practice every night, like with the ranged training? Starting tomorrow because I’m kind of really tired after today.” _And I don’t know how much I can control myself around you, so I want to push this off as much as I can._

“Yeah,” Lance smiles, letting go of his arm. “Tomorrow’s great. Can’t wait, pretty boy.”

-

Lance isn’t _bad_ at hand-to-hand combat, Keith discovers. He’s just _not good_.

“C’mon, Lance, get up,” Keith kicks Lance’s drained body softly, nudging him. “We’ve barely started.”

“Give me a break, dude, this is the third day in a row. I’m _exhausted_.”

Keith frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “How are you exhausted, you’re not even doing anything.”

Lance looks up at that with a scoff, visibly offended. “Getting beat up is exhausting.”

Keith laughs at that. They’ve been meeting up every day now, the week is almost over, and Lance hasn’t managed to pin him down once. He’s been getting better, though, and he’s managed to toss around some of the other soldiers using some techniques that Keith taught him (with his own spin to them, of course). It honestly makes him proud.

He sits down next to Lance on the ground. “You wouldn’t be getting beat up so much if you were paying closer attention.”

Lance arcs his right eyebrow in defiance. “What do you mean by that?”

“Having the upper hand in hand to hand combat isn’t about brute physical strength. In fact, from the few punches and kicks you’ve managed to land, I’d even say you’re slightly physically stronger than me.”

A blush spreads across Lance’s cheeks and he chuckles. “Then why the fuck do you always win?”

Keith smirks. “Because I can see through your every move.”

“Are you saying I’m predictable?” Lance sits up at that, softly punching Keith’s shoulder. “Lance McClain is anything _but_ predictable.”

“Maybe in other things, but in combat? You’re very easy to predict.”

“Maybe I’m not easy to predict, maybe I’m just too distracted to think things through!”

Keith faces him, then, confused. “We’re alone in the middle of plain terrain at night, what could possibly be so distracting?”

Lance’s countenance is incomprehensible, as if the answer is right in front of his face – and maybe it is, maybe he _does_ know the answer but he doesn’t quite want to acknowledge it – but then he stands up abruptly, dusting his pants off. “Alright, Mullet, let’s get this show on the road again.”

Keith follows his steps. “You sure you ready for another beat down?”

At that, the blue paladin chuckles and winks. “Anything to get your hands on me.”

He doesn’t know how to respond, he never does, so he lunges at Lance before he can become a puddle.

-

_\- you doing? You’re supposed to be at the center!_

_I know, I know, but get this –_

_No, I will not “get” anything! Out of all,_ you _are the one that most needs this training._

_I get that, Princess –_

_And you’re just lounging around, not doing anything productive._

_Well, actually –_

_I’m starting to think you’re not taking this seriously._

Yelling, so much yelling outside of his cave. He chose this cave for a _reason_ , it’s outside of the training grounds so the probabilities of people coming here were close to null. Or at least, that’s what he thought.

Without much energy, Keith groggily stands up from his makeshift bed and runs a hand blindly through his hair, hoping to comb it down a bit. He’s still wearing last night’s training shirt which is – disgusting to say the least, but he was too tired to go to the lake. He figured he could go ahead and shower quickly in the morning, but it seems that’s not going to work this particular morning.

He walks out of the cave, covering his eyes with his hand to shield himself from the harsh starlight, and looks at the scene unfolding in front of him. Outside of his cave were Commander Allura and Lance, arguing very loudly, both with hardened faces. Lance seems to be shrinking a bit at the Commander’s harsh glare, but his stance is strong and he’s not backing down.

“Yo,” Keith rasps out, his voice slightly rough from sleep. “This is my cave. Why are you yelling outside my cave.”

They ignore him, and instead continue their conversation. “Commander, I assure you I _am_ taking this seriously. We’ve been practicing every night.”

At that Commander Allura squares up at him. “Keith, is this true?

“Yes, it is.”

“How do I know you’re not lying just to cover for your,” She hesitates for a moment, looking at the two of them up and down. “Friend.”

Keith crosses his arms, face hardened. “What, do you need proof?”

Allura straightens her back so she towers over him, clearly showing off the imbalance of power between them. Keith doesn’t back out. “Actually, that is a marvelous idea. How about you two show me what you’ve supposedly been training?”

Lance’s expression shifts to a worried one, his arms falling to his sides. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“We’re at war, paladin,” Allura snaps, her voice strong. Lance’s taken aback but he doesn’t flinch or draw back, which is an improvement. “Everything is serious.”

“Fine, what do you want us to do? Duke it out?” Keith asks.

Allura’s pensive for a moment before answering. “Hmm, no. There have to be some form of stakes to ensure that you’re both actually giving it your all and not throwing for the sake of the other one.”

Keith and Lance look at one another, confused and anxious as to _what_ exactly she has in mind. Too soon, she speaks up and her words come tumbling out, destroying whatever safe haven the two have created.

“Best two out of three. The loser must face a penalty. If the blue paladin loses, he shall be sent back home. If the red paladin loses… Takashi Shirogane must enlist and come to war.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wait... is that a cliffhanger? yes yes it is i'm sorry
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed this! If it helps, the next chapter will be their battle and the conclusion of it all. THEN the really cool lake scene, which will be fluffy af :D
> 
> thanks for reading! kudos and/or comment what you think ♥

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're liking it so far!
> 
> Lance, Pidge, Hunk, and Allura all appear in the next chapter ♥
> 
> Leave a comment below, let me know what you think! Or send me a message on tumblr, at cryptidgalrakeith.tumblr.com


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